


A Purgatory Story

by sachi_sama



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Afterlife, Blood and Gore, Frottage, God Complex, Hotels, M/M, Past Incest, Sexual Content, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachi_sama/pseuds/sachi_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if it wasn't hard enough to lose all his memories and wake up in a completely unfamiliar place, John now has to remember who he used to be, all while being judged on his eternal placement in the afterlife. With his gun-happy roommate, and shade wearing douchebag of a friend, they begin to uncover their pasts, and learn they may not all be strangers to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Faceless Doctor and The Bandaged Mayor

**Author's Note:**

> Walk up in the club like, what up? I don't own this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is very important to me for a number of reasons, mainly because it's the one story I can look back on and decide I didn't mess up on any part of it. It's written exactly the way it's supposed to be written, and I am very happy with it. I regard it as the best thing I've ever worked on, and it means the world to me whenever someone else decides to read it. 
> 
> I hope all of you enjoy your stay on the 6th floor!

You aren't entirely sure where it starts. But then again, in a situation like this, you suppose no one would be.

You open your eyes to find yourself greeted by a very bright light, blinding you for a few moments as you blink furiously to try and regain your vision. The light appears to be coming from a large chandelier in the center of an expensive-looking hotel lobby. It's made of crystal, and the yellow glow is dancing around the entire room, bouncing off of everything and illuminating your path. Are you supposed to stay here? Are you waiting for someone?

You take a few tentative steps forward. The carpet below your feet is a crimson red, and your shoes sink in the fibers as you walk. Everything here appears to be extremely high class, and you try to think of a reason you would be here. But then again, who  _are_  you? You're terribly confused by all of this, but can't shake the feeling that someone is supposed to greet you. So you wait.

"How are you?" A voice asks behind you. You turn, and are immediately greeted by a large desk that you're more than certain wasn't there before. Behind it is a faceless man with a green suit, a large pen in his hand rested on a book with more pages than you could possibly imagine. His skin is white and chalky, and even with the absence of eyes, you can't shake the feeling he's staring right through you. Hesitantly, you open your mouth.

"U-Uh, I…have no clue how I am…"

"Do you remember  _who_  you are?"

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"Some people do, but an equal amount does not. I suppose you could say that either answer to the question would be accurate. Neither would have surprised me, and neither would have made your circumstances any different."

You blink owlishly at him, suddenly feeling more lost than ever. He's faceless, but you just  _know_  he's smiling. It's not the sick smile of a demented man getting off on your terror and uncertainty, no. It's the smile of someone willing to help you, the smile of someone who is patient, and most importantly, the smile of a man who has done this before. You suddenly find yourself surrounded by people, and the lobby seems brighter than before. Your words begin to come easier.

"Where am I?"

"Why, you're here with me," he says. "And we'll be here for a bit longer, I'm afraid. We're still waiting for the pull."

"What pull?" you ask.

"The kind that will bring you all the way here, my friend. I'm afraid you're lingering between both worlds right now, but once you're all the way here, we can get started."

"When…that happens, will I remember who I am?"

"Not likely, but who am I to say? As long as your information is in the other realm, I'm just as lost as you." His hands are flipping through the infinite pages, and you're certain there are even more of them than there were before. "We'll both know your name soon enough."

Your eyes wander around the sudden crowd. For a hotel, you can't understand why none of them seem to have luggage. Many of them appear just as lost as you, but some of them are navigating with precision and ease. You turn back to the faceless man, eyes finally adjusted enough to make out the fine print on his nametag. His non-existent eyes are on you again.

"Ah, it would appear we finally know each other's names," he smiles, and this time you can  _see_  it. His features are slowly carving their way into his face, and you can finally see his widely stretched grin and gentle eyes as they observe you.

"You know my name?" you ask, leaning over the desk to try and look at the page he's settled on. To your surprise, it's blank, but his pointer finger is skimming along the page as though he's following a paragraph.

"Yes. You are finally here for good. Your life in the other world is over."

"Other world?"

"Earth."

"So where are we now?"

"Patience, Johnathan. I need to read all the details here, if you please." The man, who you now know as Doc, continues reading. His eyebrows go up immensely, and then he looks at you again, shaking his head with a small smirk, before he begins writing in the book.

Even when his pen touches the paper, it doesn't leave a mark. You can't see anything on the infinite pages.

"Do you remember anything about yourself, Johnathan?" he asks you.

"I don't think I like being called that name," you frown.

"Oh? What would you prefer?"

"Um, just John, I think. It sounds more…natural?"

"I see," he smiles. Now that you can see his facial features clearly, you can see his eyes are a neon green color that seems to swirl with a large amount of electricity in them. It's almost like a lighting storm inside of him. You immediately wonder where you are again, and who you're with. And you can't help but wonder why none of the other people around you have approached the supposed front desk you find yourself leaning on. As if reading your thoughts, he addresses you again.

"Alright, John, I have everything we need. You'll be on the sixth floor."

"I'm staying here?" you ask.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Well, that's up to you," he says.

"I don't have any money," you protest. "I can't pay."

"You won't be needing any, my dear boy," he laughs. "No one here has any money."

To say you're lost would be an understatement. You're completely and utterly confused, and he must see it on your face, because the next time he speaks, his words are gentle and light.

"This is all going to be very confusing for you, I'm afraid." His hand touches your shoulder briefly, and the short time you're connected, you feel like you understand everything. The uncertainty and fear you feel is gone completely. But it's back again as soon as he lets go. "This is just the way it has to be."

"Can I at least know where I am? Who I am? Can't you tell me that much? All I have is a name, and I don't even know who  _John_  is!" you say, voice verging on frantic. You don't even notice the little man approaching you quickly until he's at your side, tugging on your arm.

"Relax, John. This is Walter. He'll take you to the room you'll be staying in."

The little man smiles at you, but only half his face is visible. The rest of his body is wrapped in bandages, little red splotches soaking through. You jump back, slightly startled by his appearance, and Doc clears his throat.

"John, please just follow him. Do not be startled by his appearance."

"How am I-"

"Have you seen yourself?"

As if on cue, Walter suddenly has a mirror in his hands, his half smile still visible. You stare at the figure in the mirror, trying desperately to remember what you used to look like, or if it's even you in the reflection. Your hair is black, and sticking up in odd directions like a permanent bedhead. Your eyes are blue, safely behind your glasses with frames that you only just realized were cracked. All over your face is dried blood, and it's matted in your hair as well, but that's not even the disturbing part. There's a series of holes in your chest, all of them still bleeding profusely. There's a puddle at your feet.

"Didn't you wonder why our carpet was so red?" Doc asks pleasantly. "To help yourself better understand, you must realize one key factor. You are not alive anymore. No one here is."

"You mean…I…"

"Yes, you're dead."

You bite your lip, wondering why you can still feel it if you're dead. You wonder why you're still bleeding if you're dead. You wonder  _why the fuck_  you can't remember who you were when you were alive, because now you're _dead_.

You turn to follow Walter with silent resignation, no longer in the mood to argue. He seems cheerful enough, and you can't help but wonder how he died, but then again, you wonder that about yourself. His nametag doesn't say 'Walter' though. You vaguely make out the word 'Mayor'. Maybe he was the mayor of a town when he was alive. Or maybe he just likes to pretend. Either way, you're not asking questions anymore, because you know you won't receive an answer. Maybe you're stubborn, but that's just something else you'll have to learn.

"Don't worry," he tells you quietly. "You'll fit in more with the people on your floor."

"Why is that?" you ask glumly.

"Because they're human, like you."

"A-Are you not?"

He looks up at you, and gestures back to Doc at the front desk, now dealing with another 'guest'.

"I used to be. He never was."

Doc makes eye contact from across the room, and winks at you. You feel your stomach drop as you wonder what he is if he's not human. Walter grabs your hand, and leads you to an elevator, rushing you inside and pressing the large '6'. He pulls out a can of Tab soda.

"If you're dead, why are you drinking that?" you ask, mildly amused. He hurriedly swallows his sip, and offers the can to you.

"You can still do some things you did while you were alive, if you want. You just don't  _have_  to. Most of us enjoy the little things that help us feel like we used to though. Doc enjoys candy bars."

You take the can from him, and drink a little sip. You're surprised by how sweet it is as you hand it back to him.

"Feel a little better?" he asks.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I'm still dead, and I still don't know who I am. I guess I feel about as good as anyone could in this situation." He nods, and the elevator stops on the sixth floor with a loud 'ding!'. The hallway is long, and seemingly as infinite as the pages in Doc's book. You can't even see the end of it. Walter leads you to a room far down the hall, and away from the elevator. It reads 634.

"This will be your room," he says happily. "And it appears you're lucky enough to have a roommate!"

"Roommate?" you frown. "Can't my eternal depression begin in peace?"

"Depression? No, John, you mustn't be sad about this! Everyone dies eventually. You're only starting your new life where your other life ends."

"Yeah, well, forgive me for not being chipper at the thought of looking like a walking corpse for the rest of my life." You gesture to your chest. "Am I gonna keep bleeding forever?"

"No, silly. You already stopped. As soon as we got to your floor, you stopped. That's part of the experience," he says, reaching out to turn the knob of the room. You place your hand over his before he can open the door, and he looks up at you, surprise on his face.

"Is it…normal to feel scared?" you ask quietly, unable to keep the moisture away from your eyes. You use your free hand to wipe the tears away. "Sorry, I'm just…completely freaked out, I guess."

"It's normal. Don't worry. Just focus on the task at hand, John."

"And what  _is_  that task, exactly?"

"You have to figure out who you are."

"How?"

There's no answer. You look down to where the small man was, but he's not there anymore, only an empty space of red carpet. Your hand is still on the knob to the room. You look down the hallway where the elevator was.

It's gone.

Taking a deep breath, and willing yourself forward, you open the door, thus beginning the rest of your afterlife.

Whooptie fucking doo.


	2. The Gun Happy Doppelganger and The Blonds' in Shades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the window, to the wall. I don't own this.

You seem to recall the idea that when you died, you were supposed to have some sudden understanding of everything. The idea that there’s life after death is enough to get most people through, but at the same time, there has to be something else, something worth all the turmoil faced in the first life. We’re supposed to have a new vast understanding of the universe, of life, and most importantly, _ourselves_. You _seem_ to recall this, but then again, what do you know? Only a few paragraphs ago, you didn’t even know your own name, you fucking genius. Maybe you’ve always been hard on yourself, but that’s something else you’ll have to learn.

You can safely assure any curious parties that there is _no_ such understanding in the afterlife, or at least not the one you’re in. Your life didn’t flash before your eyes before you woke up here, nor did you know anything more about yourself than you ever did. Hell, you didn’t even know you were a technical _thing_. Yet, here you are, standing in the semi-open doorway of a hotel room in the afterlife with a stupid gaping look on your face.

You fucking go, John Whoeverthefuckyouare. You’re such a goddamn revolutionary.

You’re not gaping at nothing, at least. You think this a very good reason to gape, actually. In your very brief time of consciousness, this ranks at least top ten reasons to stare at something like an idiot. Your new roommate looks just like you, same lost expression and everything.

You wonder if being face to face with people who look just like you is a regular thing, but what do you know? From the look on the other guy’s face, he doesn’t know either. You both stand there for a second, or maybe more than a second. Does time matter here? Is time still a thing?

How many things are still things? And more importantly, how many things are things that you actually know about? Great, more shit to remember. Because this wasn’t already confusing enough.

You awkwardly shift on your feet, and close the door behind you. “Uh, I’m supposed to… I mean, Doc and Walter downstairs told me to, uh, stay here. Like, in this room with you. I think.”

You’re so smooth, John. So, so smooth.

“With me?” The other guy’s face slowly morphs into a grin. “We’re going to share this space?” His voice is an apparent mixture of different dialects, and his tone is incredibly pleasant. It’s somewhat intriguing. You nod, shifting again. You wish he’d say something else.

In a flash, he’s in front of you, hand outstretched. His eyes are wide behind his own thick-rimmed spectacles, and you’re staring into bright green orbs the same as he stares into yours. Still staring into this odd little mirror image of yourself, you shake his hand.

“I’m Jake!” he says happily. “I must say it’s a relief to have you here, because this entire place was making me feel a tad bit lonely, you see. It’s unsettling to be alone with one’s thoughts and memories. Er- or lack thereof, in this case. Ah, but where are my manners! What’s your name?” He speaks so quickly you have to take a moment to separate his words in your mind.

“I’m John,” you say. “So you don’t know how you got here either? Who you are?”

“I’m afraid not. All I was told is my name. It’s the same for you, I assume?”

You nod, and he sighs heavily, blowing a puff of air to his hair and blowing some bangs away from his forehead. You can’t help but notice the room itself as your roommate drifts into his thoughts. The wallpaper is a golden color, pinstriped with white. There aren’t any windows, but you suppose there’s not much to see outside anyway. What really catches your attention are the large beds on either side of the room. Can you sleep? If you can eat and drink, you suppose it’s possible. Or maybe they’re just there for normality too. It’s not like you would know.

“This really is quite the pickle,” he says, and you actually laugh. You, John Whoeveryouare, you actually _laugh._ Maybe it’s the way he said that, or maybe you’re finally starting to crack. Whatever the case, your chuckle makes him laugh too, and you suddenly don’t feel quite as hopeless as before.

“Have you slept?” you find yourself asking. He looks at you imploringly.

“Slept?”

“Yes, have you been able to fall asleep?” He’s still looking at you as though you’re floating in midair, so you point to the beds. “Have you used those?”

“No,” he says slowly. “I don’t think it’s possible to lose consciousness here…”

“Have you been here long?”

“I don’t think time is possible here either.”

“Well, this is just dandy, isn’t it?”

“It would appear so.”

You walk around him to sit on one of the beds. To your surprise, it’s very comfortable. Maybe you can feel more when you’re dead, or maybe your brain just wants to believe it can feel this. Maybe you’re trying so hard to feel and understand that it’s making the receptors in your brain work overtime, and make your senses _believe_ this is reality. Maybe the bed doesn’t actually sink in beside you when Jake sits next to you, but you like to believe it does. This is real now.

This is home.

“Well, you’ve been here longer than me. We know that much, at least,” yon say, glancing over at him. He nods, chewing on his bottom lip and looking around the room again. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Yes. There are many others here, all the same as us. None of them can recollect their lives, or previous whereabouts.”

“Hmmm.”

“So, what are you thinking?” he asks, leaning toward you. You idly wonder to yourself if all interaction between humans is so quick and natural, but something about him makes it all seem alright.

“I suppose we’re all going to be thinking the same things,” you offer. “All the normal questions and such. The mayor said it was normal to feel upset.”

“Mayor?”

“Walter. Little guy? Bandaged like a mummy?”

“He’s a mayor?”

You shrug, “It’s what his nametag said.” His eyebrows are above his glasses as he looks at you again, a completely lost expression on his face.

“You could read the nametags?”

“You couldn’t?”

He shakes his head, and you frown. From the way he’s been looking at you, you can’t help but shake the feeling you’re seeing everything differently than he is. Perhaps you’re seeing things differently than everyone here? You ask Jake if he thinks so, and he says he does. He says it’s not like everyone will see the same things in their afterlives. You’re all supposed to be seeing different things, after all.

Everyone has their own lessons to work out here.

Everyone is trying hard to remember.

It occurs to you that people who have been here longer should remember more. You ask Jake who was here before him. He says lots of people. In fact, he recalls, he hasn’t seen anyone here lately who he hasn’t seen before, aside from you. But even then, it’s not much help. As stated before, time doesn’t matter here. Jake could’ve been here an entire ten minutes before you, and in this realm it could’ve been stretched into eons. Seconds become hours become years become life times. Or lack thereof, in this case. You suppose no one here actually _has_ a life anymore. You laugh at your little joke.

You’re grateful no one heard it but you.

You ask Jake if he could show you around, and he’s more than delighted to. He explains to you that this place is endless, and it’s a rather stimulating adventure to explore. He’s made it all the way to room 699, he says, but the hall keeps going. There aren’t any more doors after that point, but the hall continues endlessly. He wonders what’s at the end of it. You say probably nothing good.

As you open the door, you ask him if he talked to Doc and the may- Walter. He nods.

“Doc gave me a rather odd look as he read his book,” he says. “I wonder what it said?”

“I think we’re all on this particular floor for a reason,” you reply. “Maybe all our circumstances were similar when we died. Did you bleed on the carpet downstairs?”

“Yes. From my head,” he says. “I didn’t notice it for the longest time. It was here,” he puts his hand on his temple. “But I don’t know what happened. Maybe I was shot?”

“Shot?” you ask. “Shot by what?”

“By a gun, silly. I suppose there are worse ways to go. I don’t remember much, but I remember guns. I feel like some part of me always loved them.” He pauses, looking at you again. “Do you think we’re all here because we killed ourselves?”

“I don’t think so, in my case,” you reply. “There were tons of holes in my chest. I didn’t look at them well enough to see if they were bullet holes or not, but I know I couldn’t have inflicted those wounds on myself.”

“So we were murdered?” he implores.

“I don’t know yet,” you sigh. “I don’t even know if how we died is the reason we’re all here on this floor. It could be lots of different reasons to lump us all together. The lessons we have to learn could be similar, or the indiscretions of our lives could be the common factor. Who knows?”

The two of you begin exploring the hallway. You ask if he remembers the elevator at the opposite end. He says yes, but it won’t come back. Another man here, Dirk, already told him there’s no reason to wait for it.

“Dirk?” you ask. He nods.

“He’s the chap in the room next to ours. He has a roommate too. I expect you’ll be meeting them soon enough.”

“Does everyone just hang out in their rooms? If you don’t sleep, what do you do to pass the time?’

“Pass the what, now?”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

As you venture, you notice a large room on one side of the hall. It’s different than the rest of them, mainly because the door is glass, and you can make out the various chairs and couches inside. You point to it, and Jake follows your gaze.

“That’s a lounge, I think,” he says. “I haven’t been in there, but I think I remember lounge areas in other hotels I’ve been in.”

“You can remember that?”

“Only since you mentioned it,” he says. “I forgot about sleep until you mentioned it, actually. I didn’t remember what a bed was.”

You wonder why that is, and when he says he doesn’t know, you realize you wondered aloud. While you’re at it, you also wonder why this feels more like a stay at a stuffy hotel than an actual journey into the afterlife, and he says he doesn’t know that either. Maybe the whole thing is just in your minds, and you’re actually in an empty void.

Anything is possible in a place where nothing is anything, you suppose. And what you don’t know, you can make up.

Jake laughs at you as you say this. You look over to him questioningly.

“You’re something else,” he says, still chortling. “I don’t understand how you remember so much, but nothing at all at the same time.”

You ask what he means by that.

“How to explain it…” he says, “It’s as though you have an understanding of what life was like beforehand. No one else here has that.”

“Really?”

“No one I’ve met.”

“I wonder why,” you say. “I was concerned this whole time that I was the one forgetting absolutely everything.”

“It seems as though you’re ahead of the rest of us,” he winks, and you find yourself smiling at him. You like Jake, you decide. You know that much, even if you don’t know anything else. You ask him if he thinks you were friends in your lives before this one. He says yes.

“I’d venture we were more than friends, old chap,” he admits. “We look strikingly similar. We may have been brothers.”

You consider this as you reach room 699. Jake says this is the end of the rooms, and you can see he’s right about the hallway; it _does_ keep going. You wonder if you keep going, if anything will happen. He says it won’t, he’s tried. And before him, Dirk has tried. You say you have an idea why, but when he asks the reason, you just shake your head.

It would only make sense that if one end of the hallway has an elevator that brings you here, the other end must have one that takes you away.

Jake’s eyes are on you again, and he asks if you’re ready to turn back. You say yes, because after all, there are other people to meet. As the two of you walk back, he begins talking about guns again.

“I remember I had a pair of pistols I was very proud of,” he says. “I used to say something all the time… Ugh, what was it?”

“Oh my god, Jake,” you groan. “How can you remember something like that, but not remember a _bed_?”

“I didn’t remember any frigging bed until I met you!” he says. “And I didn’t remember my pistols either!”

“Well, it looks like we’re already on the right track then,” you say, already growing tired of hearing about guns.

“Indeed! Oh, confound it; this is going to bother the bejesus out of me…”

You open your mouth to respond, but your words are lost as you notice the figure leaning on the door next to yours. It’s a tall man with blond hair, clad in a white T-shirt and black pants. He’s wearing gloves with the fingers cut off, and he appears to be smoking. Jake rushes forward beside you.

“Dirk!” he says, running towards the man. You follow after, eager to meet another lost soul such as yourself. Said man looks up, and you notice the triangular sunglasses on his face. He grins at Jake.

“’Sup, Jake?” he says. “You finally get your roommate?”

“Yes! We’ve been talking nonstop since he arrived! I’ve actually remembered some stuff since he came!”

“Such as?”

“Guns,” you say, finally catching up. “Tons and tons of guns.”

“Yes, pistols, to be exact!” Jake smiles. “I had a pair of them, you see. I don’t remember what I used to say though, and it’s driving me absolutely mad! It was…something pistols…”

“Double pistols,” you find yourself saying without thinking. Both of the other men turn to face you, and though Dirk’s eyes are hidden, you can feel them on you. Jake’s eyes are wide. “Uh…I think.” you add hastily.

“That’s right! Double pistols, and a wink!” Jake says, tossing the blond a wink. Dirk gives him a grin, and then looks up at you again.

“You already know my name, so it’s polite to share,” he says. You decide you like the way he speaks too. He has another accent you’ve not yet heard, something deep with a twang of an unknown dialect. You offer him your hand the same way Jake had done to you.

“I’m John,” you say. He gives your hand a little squeeze, and then flicks his cigarette away with the other hand. You ask where he got it. He says he’s always had them, but he thinks you can get anything in the lounge. Whatever jogs one’s memory, he says. He jumps forward suddenly when the door he was leaning on cracks open.

“Why the fuck were you against the door, asshole?” a voice you haven’t heard yet asks. You find yourself face to face with another blond male, this one looking younger than the other two men you had met. You think he’s closer to your age, and then add to your mind that age is a thing. Something else to remember, you suppose.

The newcomer is wearing shades as well, but they’re round. His clothes are a little rugged, his jeans full of holes, and his shoes seemingly tattered. He’s wearing a red hoodie, and you can see your reflection in his sunglasses, because his face hasn’t left yours yet. A golden brow rises above his shades.

“And you are?” he asks, his voice holding the same twang as Dirk’s, but with more of a monotone. You offer your hand again.

“John,” you say hurriedly, voice squeaking. Something about him seems to make you a little nervous, but you try to shake it off. He stares at your hand, and then smirks before clapping his against yours, making a smacking noise. You recoil yours to your chest, feeling it slightly sting from the impact.

“Dave,” he says, the smirk still on his face. “Welcome to the pile of testosterone and mounts of sexual tension that is Dirk and Jake’s _friendship_.”

“Oh, please,” Dirk says, crossing his arms across his chest, “like you could read anything in the air aside from your own pretention.”

“I may be a dead motherfucker, but I’m not brain dead,” Dave quips. “You wanna come with, Johnny Boy?”

“U-Uh, come with where?”

“Away from these two. Does it matter?”

“I…guess not.”

He motions for you to follow him, making an extremely exaggerated kissy face at Dirk, who looks less than amused. Jake shoots you his ‘double pistols and a wink’ move, and you know you’ve seen it at least a dozen times before.

“So what’s your story, anyway?” Dave asks. You look up to him, a little irked that everyone here is taller than you, before you remember that being tall is also a thing.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Do you know yours?”

“Nope. I probably exploded or something. In a thousand pieces. I think that sounds fun.”

You laugh lightly, saying he’s an idiot. He shoves you playfully, saying it’s better to make up a backstory than being a nobody. You can’t help but agree with him, and ask how he exploded. He says it was random. One day he just decided to explode. You ask how he thinks you died, and he says probably someone strangling you because you were an idiot. You argue with him over that one, eager to think about this stupid stuff for a bit, and push everything else out of your mind. Who’s to say nothing you’re saying is true, anyway?

After all, you remind yourself, anything is possible in a place where nothing is anything.

And what you don’t know, you can make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, guys! I'd love to hear more feedback!


	3. New People, Vivid Memories, and a Quiet Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lil mama, lemme whisper in your ear. I don't own these characters.

Faintly, you remember that you might have always had an issue opening up to people. It comes in little slivers, ever so slightly weighing on your mind, and then disappears as soon as it came. You’ve been quietly mulling over little random memories since you died, but hey, at least you’re thinking, right? It would be more than a little helpful if you could hold onto one single memory at a time, but instead they all seem to come at once, and then fade away before you can fully grasp them. You feel just as lost as you did when you first came to in the lobby, and you haven’t felt at ease since you were touched on the shoulder by Doc. Well, that is to say, until Dave forced his way past your physical boundaries.  


He’s a very warm presence in the dimly lit hallway. His constant streams of words are very comforting somehow, and his wiry arm has been slung over your shoulders since you agreed to accompany him to wherever the hell it is the two of you are going. You might’ve thought to ask him, but then again, you can’t really get a word in edgewise. He’s having a conversation with himself, it seems. If not for his arm around you, you might begin to think he didn’t know you were there. Maybe when he shuts up, you’ll ask what it is he’s talking about, because you really don’t have any idea. Still, it’s welcoming in a weird way. His constant talking is filling any potential silence. You don’t like silence.  
Hey, look at that, you just learned something about yourself. You fucking go, John. Gold star for you.

The two of you keep walking straight on the exact same path you and Jake took earlier, but it’s different with Dave. If you could describe how it felt with Jake, you’d have to say thoughtful. The two of you had been trying to figure out where, and more importantly _who_ , you were. With Dave, it’s more like one of those pointless outings one might have with a friend. One that doesn't have any significance at all, but seems to have a special meaning in itself. If you could describe this in one word, it would be pleasant. You find yourself leaning on him while you walk, and it might be your imagination, but you think his arm tightens around your shoulders. 

“It’s like one of those things you see coming, but you can’t really stop it from happening. Like a bad haircut or some shit. You _know_ it’s gonna be a catastrophe, but by that point you have to get one because your hair is so long it’s either cut it or be a hippie, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d look very nice as a flower child of fucking nature. You know?”

“Uh.”

“Yeah, you know. No use dodging anything you can’t really evade, my man. Death is some serious shit. Never thought I’d actually bite the fucking bullet though. Or I _think_ I never thought that. Then again, what do we really know anyway? Hell, I could’ve been some kinda _master_ at thinking about my own death. Maybe I was one of those weird kids who sit in their rooms surrounded by candles and humming to dark spirits or something. Like, those little emo kids who pray for death and stuff. But we probably shouldn’t talk bad about those kids. Shit ain’t right. Shame on you, John.”

“Um…”

“I don’t guess any of us remember biting the big one though, do we? Do you? I don’t. First memory I have is of a tacky lobby with bloody ass carpet and a guy without a face. I don’t know about you, but it seemed pretty weird to me.”

“Dave?”

“What.” 

“What injuries did you have in the lobby?” you ask.

“You mean like, what killed me? Aside from the made-up explosion I already told you about.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Uh, a shit ton of gashes all over my chest. Looked like someone decided to play housewife with a kitchen knife, and I was the Virginia ham.”

“So you think you were murdered?” 

“Unless I went ape-shit and started stabbing myself, yeah. You?”

“Same as you. Holes in my chest. But they looked more like bullet holes than knife wounds. Well, I think so, at least. But what do I know about anything?”

“Sounds like we were both killed by some crazy assholes.”

“Yeah. You seem to have a lot more understanding of things than Jake. Do you think it’s because you’ve been here longer?”

“It could be that, or the fact that he’s an oblivious twat.”

“I think he’s nice!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re like his twin or some shit. Trust me on this, bro, any guy that Dirk would take an interest in ain’t right in the head. Mainly because Dirk isn’t right in the head. That’s like the first thing I remembered when I got here. One, I’m dead. Two, Dirk’s an ass, and he’s crazy as shit.”

“Dave, you’re a loser. Did you know that about yourself? Because I think it’s a thing.”

“Screw you, Johnny-Rotten. I’m cooler than the other side of a pillow.”

The sound of a door hitting a wall has the two of you turning around abruptly, Dave’s arm slipping off your shoulder and leaving you with a cold feeling you can’t quite place. Two more people you haven’t met yet come into your field of vision, one of them charging toward you and Dave with a beyond irritated look on his face. He’s shorter than you by about a head, but you instantly feel uneasy from the look he’s giving you. You find yourself moving a little behind Dave.

“Hey! You fucking shades wearing, douchebag skeleton _asshole!_ ” the stranger yells much too loudly for an empty hallway. 

“Sup,” Dave says calmly.

“You think this shit is funny?” the guy hisses, raising a piece of paper with a crudely drawn picture on it. You can make out that it’s most likely supposed to be a picture of the angry man in front of you, but in the drawing he’s surrounded by obscene scribbles that resemble certain parts of the male anatomy, and you quickly bite your lip to stop from laughing. Dave leans closer to the drawing.

“Huh. Looks like we have an artist among us.”

“Don’t fucking give me that, you steaming pile of ass vomit. We both know you scribbled this while laughing into your hand like some grade school child writing a love note. I’m sure you ejaculated all over your room in pure mirth over the idea of someone willingly looking at your half assed drawings for more than a few minutes, but next time frame it and hang it up on your own wall, fuckass.”

“Shit, man, you think I’m that talented? I wish I could draw dicks like that.”

“YOU FUCKING SIGNED YOUR NAME AT THE BOTTOM!”

“Clearly this artist has good taste in role models.”

The stranger makes a high pitched noise somewhere between a scream of rage and a cry of helplessness, face slowly turning redder and redder, and Dave’s eyebrow raises above his shades before he points at you.

“Maybe you could tone back your abnormal level of hostility and introduce yourself like a decent person, Karkitty.”

“Karkat. _Karkat_ , KARKAT. My goddamn name is _KARKAT_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Put down that dick drawing you’re fondling so tenderly and shake hands with my main bro, John.”

Karkat shouts a wordless cry of rage again, angrily tearing the picture to shreds with his hands and throwing the pieces in the air. The other guy who was lingering behind walks up beside him, towering over all of you with a dopey grin on his face. His gaze settles on you.

“Well, well, we all up and got us a newcomer!” Before you can respond, he leans toward you and lifts you off the ground in a hug so tight it almost hurts, and to your disdain, he doesn’t let go. 

“Gamzee. Not everyone likes being manhandled by some brain dead looking asshole they’ve never seen before,” Karkat says disdainfully, kicking the pieces of the destroyed drawing for good measure. Gamzee doesn’t let go, but he sets your feet on the ground, at least. You awkwardly pat his back, hoping his grip will loosen, but it’s finally Dave who saves you by grabbing the back of Gamzee’s hood and tugging him away.

“Sorry, my brother. I was feeling pretty emotional about this miraculous shit we call _friendship_. It’s like, I don’t even motherfuckin’ know if we met before, but I all up and had to be offering you the most tender of bro embraces to let you know we’re best friends. You feel me?”

“Uh.”

“So is there a reason Gamzee was in your room, or is your love affair still under wraps?” Dave asks shamelessly.

“HE LET HIMSELF IN, YOU SCRAWNY TAINT LICKING CUM STAIN!”

“I’m sure he did. Bet he let himself _all in_.”

You find yourself dodging the misplaced flails of the short, but somehow even more enraged Karkat as he flings unceremoniously towards Dave to supposedly enact physical justice upon his “smug ass mug”, but the blond dodges him easily, catching him around the middle and twirling him around to shove into Gamzee, who proceeds to wrap his gangly arms around the by now screaming man. You start backing away almost unconsciously. You’re more than a little concerned that Karkat might viciously attack you, because Dave is very much pushing his buttons past the point of all rationality. You continue walking backwards, aware your shoes are sinking into the carpet barely, just barely.

Just…barely.

Maybe if you look close enough, you could see the blood in the fibers. Or is that only downstairs? You never actually thought to ask Doc how far the blood spread, or how long you’d be able to recognize it. How you long to reach down and touch it, maybe just for a second. Maybe if the blood is there, was there, or ever _has_ been there, it might spread into your palm, over your fingers, soaking into you and enriching you with the memories of whom they belong to. Maybe one of those people could be you. Voices are calling you, but you pay no mind, assuming the calls are probably all coming from Dave, seeing as how he loves the sound of his own voice. Your shoes stop walking as you begin to lean down, fingers outstretched to touch the carpet below, but at the last second, you find yourself unwilling to touch it. Suddenly the idea of blood isn’t as enticing as it was before, so you stand up straight again. Dave, Karkat and Gamzee are all looking at you with odd expressions on their faces.

“What?” you ask, suddenly aware of how odd it must have seemed to quite literally Moon Walk away from the group without so much as a word to why you were doing so. Hey, the Moon Walk. That’s a thing.

“Dude, are you okay? You’re fucking _white_ ,” Dave says, moving toward you.

“Yeah, I was just going to-“ you look at the carpet as if to punctuate your words, gesturing to it slightly to indicate the reason for your odd behavior, but cut yourself short as something shines from the carpet. An odd brassy color is glinting in the crimson fibers, resting just below your shoes. Leaning down, you pick up the offending object, clutching it in your hand for a moment before observing it. The single object has suddenly morphed into six separate objects, and immediately, it clicks in your mind what they are with a literal clicking noise. Almost like the noise of ammo being loaded into the chamber of a weapon. 

There are bullets in your hand. Six of them sit in your palm, glinting up at you with strange, brassy hue. Only when you look at them more closely do you notice they’re all glinting with red. Where did the color come from? Was it from the carpet? 

Almost as if on cue, you notice the blood slowly seeping through your shirt again, the cold, wretched trail leaking into the carpet fibers below. _Why_ so suddenly…? You begin breathing very quickly, the fact that you don’t actually even _need_ to breathe anymore being shoved into the far corners of your mind. The bullets drop to the ground and disappear as soon as they hit, your hands moving to cover the shots in your chest and stomach on reflex, only to find the holes are no longer there. Dave is beside you, eyebrows way above his shades as he grips your shoulders, and you feel as though he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

“John? Dude, what the _fuck_? What was that?”

“I- I don’t…I saw _bullets_ and…”

“Bullets?”

“It’s because you wanted to know how you died,” a female voice says. Your eyes snap to the source to find a woman leaning on an open door, arms crossed over her chest and framed by long, dark, curly locks. You hear an audible groan from all members of your current party, but you don’t know why. Dave begins tugging you away.

“C’mon, man. You do not wanna listen to her.”

“Did you see it too?” you ask the woman, brushing Dave’s hands off. She shakes her head.

“That was only for you to see. Only you know what it was you saw.”

“Then how did you-“

“Because we’re all doomed to start remembering our undoing. We’re all going to relive our deaths at some point, and then we’re going to disappear once we figure it all out. It’s inevitable.”

“Would you kindly shut the fuck _up_ , Aradia? All of us remember how we died. That’s not even a question anymore. John just said he was shot, didn’t he? We sat here and watched him remember it. So why the fuck is he still here?” Karkat hisses. “I remembered being impaled like a crab for a kabob, but I’m still here. Gamzee and Dave were cut up like the unforgivable piles of anal leakage they both are, and they’re still here. I personally think all your ‘doomed’ talk is just for you.”

“I wish it was,” Aradia says quietly, eyes trained on you though she’s talking to Karkat. “It simply means we have more to remember before we can pass on. And we don’t know how we died, not yet. None of us know who did it.”

“John,” Dave says, tugging you again. Wordlessly, you turn away from the strange woman, following your three companions into the depths of the hallway. Faintly, you can hear Aradia calling after you in a voice containing the same wistfulness you could see in her eyes. It takes a moment for you to make out what she’s saying, but once you understand it, you turn back around, tugging out of Dave’s grip, only to find she’s not there anymore. Frowning, you allow Dave’s arm around you again as your feet carry you forward, even though your mind is left behind to mull over the words you managed to piece together.

_“Someone here is a murderer.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, though, how fucking great is tumblr? [Shameless plus is shameless](http://sachi-sama.tumblr.com/)


	4. The Dream and The Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: She hit the floor, next thing you know, I don't own these characters. *throws table*

At first, you didn’t quite understand why Dave was still following you. Gamzee and Karkat had disappeared back into the shorter man’s room, and you kept walking, deciding to head back to your room and maybe hash out some more possibilities with Jake, since you seem to be tied with him somehow. These thoughts were interrupted when Dave ran beside you, continuing his earlier ramblings of nonsense, but oddly enough, you welcomed it. So when you arrived back to your own room, you weren’t surprised when he followed you inside without waiting for an invitation. You suppose you’ve kind of accepted him as another fixture in your life you’ll have to get used to.

Or afterlife, rather.

Moving to your bed, or the bed you _suppose_ is yours since Jake had been sitting on the opposite one earlier, you flop unceremoniously into the sheets, your head hitting the pillows. It’s extremely comfortable for something you’re not supposed to be using, you think to yourself. Dave chuckles somewhere off to the side of the bed.

“Dude, what are you doing?” he asks.

“Lying down.” 

“Uh, yeah, but _why_?”

You close your eyes and set your glasses on the table beside the bed. Idly, you think to yourself that you have done this at least a thousand times before. When something pokes your cheek, you huff irritably and open your eyes to see your reflection in Dave’s shades. His finger is reached out to you, and his eyebrows are high above his sunglasses. You’re starting to think his damn eyebrows are the only way he can actually emote, since his eyes are hidden. Silently, you reach out, your fingers brushing the edges of the frames. He doesn’t move to stop you.

“Why do you wear these?” you ask quietly.

“Why do you wear yours?” he snarks, but his voice is lacking any real venom.

“Because I can’t see without them,” you reply. “Everything is too fuzzy.”

“But you’re dead,” he says. “You don’t need them anymore. You only think you do.” His hands move up to cover yours, and he leads you to remove his shades. Your breath hitches at his eyes. You don’t remember much about anything, but you know red eyes are unusual to say the least. “See? You can see me just fine, even without your derpy glasses.”

“Your eyes…”

“Neither of us needs our glasses, but we wear them. Why do you think that is?”

“Because we long for a sense of normalcy.”

“Bingo. None of us need any of this,” he motions around the room. “You don’t _need_ that bed you’re lying on, but it’s there. All of this is just something that doesn’t mean shit in the long run. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

You nod, silently slipping his glasses back on his face before lying back down. He doesn’t move from his spot, and his face is still impassive. You wonder what he’s thinking about, but you don’t think it would be polite to ask.

It’s comfortable in the small room, the only sounds being yours and Dave’s quiet breathing. Oddly enough, you feel… _tired_. You aren’t certain whether or not you can actually sleep, or if you’re just simply on the verge of another memory. Either way, your eyes slip shut again, but this time, it’s not of your own volition. You think you hear Dave say something, but you don’t quite hear him. Somehow, in the afterlife, in this bogus hotel, in the place you know it’s not technically _possible_ ; you fall asleep.

\--

_You’re on your bed, and it’s not made. Your dad vocalizes his displeasure at having to tell you to make your bed again, but you simply ignore him. It’s not as though he really cares about you anyway, and you know that. All he cares about is the appearance of his perfect family, and since you’re the only immediate family he has, you’re forced into a small box more often than you would like._

_You look to your left, and see the wall of posters. You regard it fondly, because it’s the only part of the entire house you can say is entirely yours. Your father has said he didn’t appreciate them, but he never told you to take them down, so they’re still up. You like to think he might know how much they mean to you, and that’s why he lets you keep them, but you think the real reason is he’s just given up on trying to control you. As ideal as that situation might sound, you know better. It really just means he’s giving up on **you**. Still, even that might be better than being forced to be something you can never actually be. You’re upset because you’re disappointing him._

_You’re upset because you’re disappointing everyone._

_Under your pillow, there’s a thick book, most of the pages already filled. Your dad told you countless times to disregard what you see, but your therapist begs to differ. She told you to write down every little thing you see, even if you’re not certain whether or not it was real. Most things you see upset everyone around you, but she’s told you it’s not your fault. Even now, you can hear her words in your head._

_“It’s not a curse, John. Some would consider it a gift.”_

_Yeah, right. It’s partly because of this “gift” that your dad can’t have the normal son he’s always wanted. No one understands you, and you know that. You don’t understand yourself. You close your eyes as another voice begins talking to you, and on impulse, you reach for your book to record what it says. You jot it down as quickly as you possibly can, because if your dad finds the book, he won’t be pleased with you, and you really don’t want to disappoint him again. The page stares up at you when you’re finished, and you read the new message in your head, wondering what exactly it means before shoving the book back under your pillow._

_“Someone here is a murderer.”_

_\--_

Gasping, you open your eyes to find three people hovering near you. You’re sweating, and you can’t see for a moment, and then someone is handing you your glasses, and you slip them on gratefully before observing your surroundings.

“John! Oh, bother, you gave me such a fright!” Jake is beside you, and you recognize that it was him who handed you your glasses. “You wouldn’t open your eyes and we didn’t know what was happening!”

Dirk and Dave are behind him, both of their eyes on you. Dave looks scared, or at least what parts of his face you can _see_ look scared. Dirk looks thoughtful instead, and he takes the liberty of moving towards you, gloved hand outstretched to feel your forehead. Jake turns to look at him questioningly, but doesn’t say anything.

“What did you see?” Dirk asks quietly. Both Dave and Jake turn to you.

“I…saw my room. My _bedroom_ , like at home or something. There were posters and…I heard my dad. I didn’t see him, but I heard him. I don’t…” you pause, trying to grasp the remainders of the dream, but it’s already slipped too far away. You lean forward, putting your head on your knees and your arms wrapping around your legs. “I don’t think my dad liked me very much,” you whisper.

A hand goes on your back, pressed gently between your shoulder blades, and you look up to see it’s Jake’s hand, his green eyes looking rather pained.

“Oh, John, I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “But you- how did you sleep? It’s…not possible! Right, Dirk?” The elder blond shrugs, and you don’t miss the not-strictly-friendly hand he runs through Jake’s dark hair.

“I don’t really know. Maybe nothing is impossible here.”

Jake turns to you again, his hand rubbing circles in your back. “John, are you alright? Do you feel sick or anything?”

“No, I’m fine. It was just unpleasant is all. Thanks though.” You look up at Dave, who’s being oddly silent, and motion for him to come closer. He does so, and Jake stands with Dirk, who leads him away, seeming to know Dave has something to say to you. Idly, you wonder what the connection between Dirk and Dave is. The more time you spend with them together, the more you can tell they share something in common.

Dave stands directly above you, hands in the pockets of his ratty hoodie. You reach out for him, and pull him down to sit beside you.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, and he snorts.

“I should be asking _you_ that. I’m not the one who went all catatonic and shit.”

“That wasn’t catatonic, stupid. And besides, you look scared or something, I don’t know. I can just…see it on your face.”

“Takes some serious talent to see past this Class A poker face. Serious fucking talent.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree.

The dimly lit room is silent again, and your surroundings are nothing but the tacky furniture and golden striped wallpaper. Without offering explanation, you lean your head on Dave’s shoulder, and he leans his against yours. Maybe it’s not exactly a normal situation, but nothing about this is. Dave’s quiet breathing brings a smile to your face, because neither of you even needs to breathe, and yet, you both are. He sighs quietly, a look of contentment on his face before he speaks to you again.

“There’s something different about you,” he says after a few moments. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s a thing.”

“Yeah, something tells me I’ve never been exactly _normal_ ,” you say, thinking back to your dream. He hums, leaning on you more fully.

“I don’t think any of us are. I mean, I saw the way you looked at my eyes. Shit’s extreme.”

“I didn’t mean to react weird or anything,” you mumble. “It’s just…it’s nice, you know? Not being the only weirdo here. I remember I always used to wish for that. Or at least, I remember that _now_. I think I might have been the black sheep of my family.”

“Hmmm,” Dave offers, “don’t worry about it. We’re all dead. I doubt anyone cares about strangeness at this point.”

“Do you really think none of this matters?” you ask. “You think we’re all here for no reason?”

“Nah, there’s a reason. I think we’re all connected somehow. No one here I’ve met likes talking about it though. Hell, besides Dirk and Aradia, you’re the first person I’ve talked to who’s acknowledged the fact that we’re all dead. Even Karkat doesn’t like talking about it, and I don’t think Gamzee has even noticed, to be honest.”

“Who else is here?” you ask.

“We’ll hunt them down later. I’ve had enough excitement for a bit. Since you came, I mean.”

And you smile softly at his words, because he seems to think the two of you are going to do everything together, and you really don’t mind too much. At first, you wondered why he was following you, but now it makes a little more sense, after your odd dream. Maybe it’s not just you who’s been tired of being alone this whole time. Maybe Dave has been lonely even longer than you have.

You don’t think you knew Dave in your life before, because you certainly feel as though you’d remember him and his oddly intriguing crimson eyes. You think you’d remember having someone you felt so comfortable with. Faintly, you recall knowing Dirk before, or at least, glimmers of him. You knew Jake very well. You probably saw Karkat, Gamzee, and maybe even Aradia in passing once or twice before. But not Dave. It’s strange to you that he’s someone you have absolutely no memories of, but you feel so…at _ease_ with him.

You know somehow, deep down, you’ve waited for this sense of comfort. You’ve waited for someone to tell you it’s okay to be strange. You’ve waited for Dave, and you think he might have been waiting for you too, but you’re not sure you know how you know.

Dave watches you intently when you pull away from him suddenly to reach under your pillow, and you think his look of shock is just as apparent as yours when you pull a thick book out from under it.

Sadly, the book is empty, save for one sentence on the first page.

_“If you’re reading this, it’s already begun.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments, you guys! I know it's confusing, but it's supposed to be for now. I love hearing from you! ;3


	5. The Fort, The Light, and The Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: You can bet that, never gotta sweat that- I don't own these characters.

You’d like to say time passed by quickly after the dreams started. You’d like to say you knew more about yourself, and you were on the fast track to figuring out whatever the hell it was you were supposed to be figuring out. You’d _like_ to say these things, but you’d be lying if you did. Maybe it would just be stretching the truth, like Dave always says is a good thing, but you think it’s best to just be honest.

Dave was right about the other people on the floor with you. There are a lot of them, and none of them seem any closer to figuring out anything than you are. You’re still wondering about what it is you all have in common, since the ones you’ve talked to have all died in various ways.

Sollux, who you met a little after the first time you slept, told you his skull was crushed. He doesn’t remember how his head regained its shape, but he saw it in the lobby, in the small mirror Walter had held up to him. He said it was mostly just blood, and bits of brain that he could make out, and he didn’t even know how he could see it with his eyes oozing out of their sockets, but when he got to the sixth floor, the floor you’re all on, he was fine again. Then he grinned at you, saying you looked like you might be sick. You countered by saying anyone who could hear that description and _not_ feel sick must have serious problems. That was when you met Vriska.

She sort of just appeared behind you, a wolfish, sharp-toothed grin directed at you. She made you feel _extremely_ uncomfortable, but Sollux didn’t seem fazed by her presence, so you relaxed a little, hoping your expression conveyed one of innocence, and not challenging. Her electric blue eyes scanned you for a second, and then she told you, with another wide smile like it was the most natural thing in the world, that she was cut up. She was cut to pieces, she said happily, oblivious to your incredulous staring and Sollux’s head shake. It was as though she were observing her corpse in third person, hovering over herself. Then she laughed, slapping you on the back, telling you to lighten up, that she was _kidding_ , that only her bottom half was cut to pieces, and that the rest of her seemed intact. “Almost like whoever cut me up just gave up halfway through,” she said. You backed away slowly, and then all but ran back to your room, hiding under your covers because you thought you could use some time alone. Jake was there, but he didn’t bother you much, until he asked if he could enter your makeshift fort, and then the two of you made your beds and blankets into an actual fort. Vriska didn’t bother to find you there, thankfully.

Tavros was a quiet man with gentle eyes, and he didn’t bother to approach you, so you were the one who approached him. He was paralyzed before, you learned, and he was getting used to his legs again. Then he asked, in a very quiet voice, if you were friends with Vriska. You admitted to being scared of her, and then his whole demeanor changed when he agreed with you, and admittedly opened up much more after that. He, like Gamzee and Dave, was stabbed multiple times. He told you that the only thing he remembered before was Vriska. He thought they might have been friends in his life before, but now he’s just scared of her. You told him that seemed perfectly understandable, but conveniently left out the fact that you hid from her under a blanket fort for a long, _long_ time. That was when Gamzee and Karkat invited themselves to join you, and the four of you talked for a long time about nothing, which had become your favorite topic. Dave found you there later, plopping beside you and whining about Dirk being an asshole. You remember thinking how nice it was to have such good friends.

Equius was a very tall, _very_ built man, but he seemed more or less to be a gentle giant. By his side was a nimble girl named Nepeta, with large green eyes that reminded you vaguely of a cat. They both died from some kind of blunt force trauma. Nepeta told you they died together, and Equius seemed to agree. Then he launched into a rant about horses, and you sort of lost interest in what he had to say, and were admittedly glad that Nepeta talked enough for both of them. It was through her that you met Terezi, who you found just _slightly_ less disturbing than Vriska.

Terezi liked to spend her time in the lounge Jake pointed out to you the first time you roamed the halls with him. She told you she thinks she was strangled, since the only real markings on her body were the bruises around her neck. She was blind in her other life, she told you, and it was quite a shock to be able to see. You supposed that explained the scarf she tied around her head, shielding her eyes from you. You watched her draw various things on the walls with chalk she had with her, and you wondered to yourself how she could _see_. But sometimes it’s more important to feel, and not to see, you thought. Gamzee said it was miracles that enabled it, and you believed him without question, laughing when Dave joined Terezi in drawing all over the walls. He drew various obscene anatomically correct parts of human anatomy, and Karkat screamed that it _proved_ it was Dave who kept slipping the drawings under his door.

Last on the floor was Aradia, but you hadn’t seen her since your first encounter. Dave told you not to worry about seeing her, because every moment you _didn’t_ see her was a moment well-spent. You asked why everyone didn’t like her much, and he told you not to worry about that either. His arm slung around you then, and he smirked at you, saying you were too friendly.

“Being too friendly is a great way to make enemies,” he told you. “Never take anyone at face value, man. That shit’ll get you killed.”

You reminded him you were already dead, and he only said it proved his point further.

You decided to put it out of your mind the best you could, and not worry about anything else unless you absolutely _had_ to. It seemed all of you, all of your various backgrounds and life stories, unknown as they might be, had so much to worry about, so much to figure out. It felt very unimportant to wonder about a single girl who didn’t actively seek out your company, but…something was telling you to talk to her. Your dreams, specifically, were telling you to talk to her. She knew something, that much you were certain of. You just hadn’t ascertained what exactly that _was_.

In present, or as present as it can possibly be in a place where time doesn’t matter, you find yourself in the “lounge” room. Dave is beside you, as per usual, talking _at_ , not _with_ , Karkat. He confided in you some amount of time ago that pissing Karkat off is one of his great joys in the afterlife. It’s something you should do some time, he tells you. You don’t think it would turn out well for you, because Karkat is only a little shorter than you, and you’re fairly certain he would give Dave a series of punches if he could _catch_ the elusive blond, and you’re not nearly as fast as he is. So instead of trying to make Karkat’s lid flip more than usual, you take Gamzee’s approach to the situation, and merely lean back, watching it all happen. Terezi and Nepeta are drawing on the wall again, and you can actually see Terezi’s eyes because she’s not wearing her scarf. You haven’t asked why yet, but you suppose if she wanted to tell you, she would, and you’re still not comfortable enough to actively approach her and ask.

Vriska is there too, but she’s being tame enough, you think, engaged in a conversation with a terrified looking Tavros, who seems to be politely trying to escape. Dirk and Jake fade in and out of your usual roaming of the hall. Sometimes they’re there, and other times they’re off on their own. You aren’t sure what they do, or where they go, but Dave’s told you not to look for them, _to trust him, and don’t look for them._ Dear _God_ , John, _don’t look for them_. You didn’t bother asking why.

It’s then that you see her dark hair swishing around a corner, like she had been in the room, and then decided to leave abruptly. You excuse yourself immediately, but you don’t think any of your friends notice your departure because Karkat is shouting again, arms flailing as he attempts to get at Dave. You make your way to the endless hallway, and see Aradia far ahead of you, walking back to her room. You run after her almost mindlessly, not even certain what it is you _want_ to say, only knowing that you _need_ to talk to her. She stops before you reach her, and turns to face you with an almost expectant look on her face.

“Thanks for waiting,” you say, needlessly, you think. She smirks, shaking her head.

“I was hoping you’d follow,” she says. “You’ve been wondering about me.” You ask how she knows, and she points to her head as if that answers everything. You frown to show you don’t understand, and she sighs, rolling her eyes at you.

“Look, I know I’ve gotta be missing something,” you say apologetically, “because you seem to have more of an understanding of what the hell is going on more than anyone here, and I just feel like I’m…supposed to talk to you.”

“You are,” she says simply. “We’ve been meant to talk for a long while now. I was going to wait longer, but it seems it was meant to happen now.”

“That’s what I mean, you just…you just _know_ these things, and I-“

“John, tell me, have you been sleeping?”

“I…yeah, how did you-?”

“And what do you see when you dream?”

“Well, I haven’t dreamed anything worthwhile in a bit, but the first time there was a book in my dream I was filling out, and when I woke up, it was there…”

“Right, and in the dream, there was a voice, wasn’t there?”

“Uh, yeah. A voice talked and I wrote down what it said…”

“I used to hear them too,” she says quietly, “when I was alive, I mean. The voices.”

“I thought you said we’d all hear and see certain things?” you interject. “That it was inevitable? That we’d all remember our past lives, and how we died?”

“Yes, but this is different, John. I don’t understand it any more than you do, but somehow, in some way, we’ve spoken before. All I know is that we’re alike in some way. I knew it as soon as I saw you.”

“I felt that too,” you admit. “But we didn’t know each other before.”

“Not in person, no.”

You want to ask what she means by that, but the look of obviousness on her face makes you reconsider. Her eyes are a pretty honey color, you notice, and you wonder why she looks so sad.

“You were a good person, John,” she tells you earnestly. “Always remember that you were a good person. I know that much about you.”

“Aradia, do you…when we first met, you said something about a murderer. Do you know who it was? Do you know who killed me?”

“No,” she says, “but you do.”

You groan, tugging your hands through your hair because this is just all so _complicated_. You lean against the wall and sink toward the carpet, and are pleased to see the carpet _is_ dry. She takes the liberty of sitting beside you, crossing her legs, and folding her hands in her lap. You catch a glimpse of her arms, white as snow, with very faint scars along her wrists. You wonder if she was always an outcast, like she is now. How horrible it must be to always be alone, no matter the circumstance. You feel as though you understand how that feels better than anyone.

Reaching out, you take her arm in your hand, tracing the scars on her skin. She watches you, not bothering to take her arm away, and her honey eyes stay trained on your fingers as they move. “You can see them?” she asks.

“Yes. I know they’re not what killed you, but…I know you gave them to yourself.”

“I was…very unhappy,” she says quietly, “and very much alone. It hurt so much…”

“I know,” you murmur.

“I remember my mother,” Aradia whispers with a smile. “She was a beautiful woman, and she loved me so much. My dad left before I was born, so it was always just us.”

“She must have been strong,” you say, deciding you like when she smiles. You wish she’d smile more.

“She was. She was so strong. I remember how it felt when she died. I was all alone for the first time in my life, and it didn’t turn out very well for me, as you can see,” Aradia laughs, but the laugh is hollow.

“How did she die?” you ask.

“She was sick. She’d been sick for a long while, but I guess I always just thought she was fine, because she _acted_ fine. I was in high school when she passed, in my senior year. I never really had friends because everyone thought I was a weirdo, and I guess I kind of was. Not everyone understands things they can’t control.”

You hum quietly, because you know all too well what she means. You didn’t have friends either.

“And then…I remember graduating. I had a job. I was able to keep my mom’s apartment as my home…” Aradia appears to be deep in thought, and you vaguely wonder how the hell she’s remembering all of this. The scars on her skin look so unwelcome, and you wish you could wipe them away.

“I didn’t really ever move on,” she says. “I don’t think I could. It was…it was too hard. I don’t think I was ever good at letting things go. I…I didn’t know how to go on being alone.”

“Aradia…”

“But you know how that feels, I guess.”

“Our experiences were different, I think, even if I don’t remember mine. But I…” You trace her scars again, almost mindlessly. “I know how it feels to want to die.”

“I know. And even when you die, nothing in really answered. Nothing gets better. It’s almost like we were always doomed to know the answers to questions that haven’t been asked, and ask questions that will never be answered.”

“That’s life, I guess,” you say.

“Death, too.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re thankful you chased after her. No one deserves to be alone, and Aradia is a good person. You think to yourself that the others must have avoided her for the same reason you wanted to talk to her. She knew things, things no one else knew about the world before. She’s similar to you in a lot of ways, and you’re glad you’re able to be here for her. You like to think she’s grateful too.

“How did you die?” you finally ask. She sighs.

“I was attacked on my way home from work. I don’t remember exactly what happened but…” a frown appears on her face, and then her eyes widen considerably. You’re a little alarmed at her expression, but then she speaks again, much louder than before. “I was murdered.”

“Aradia?”

“And I know who did it…”

“What? Who?”

She turns to you then, the same expression on her face, and you’re frightened by the fierceness in her eyes. But then they soften, and you realize she’s looking _past_ you, almost _through_ you. Turning curiously, you notice she’s simply staring down the hall, obviously seeing something you can’t. You reach for her, but you can’t touch her. She stands, shakily stepping down the hall, and in her gaze you can see tears. Not tears of sadness, but tears of someone who finally understands a concept they’ve waited an eternity to grasp. You stand too, watching her from your place against the wall, not knowing what’s happening, but somehow understanding it’s something you can’t look away from, something _extraordinary_.

“Oh, John,” she breathes. “It’s _beautiful_.”

“What? What is it?”

“A light. Can’t you see it?”

You shake your head, telling her no, you can’t see it, and she needs to tell you what it looks like, but she doesn’t respond. She walks down the hallway, the seemingly endless hallway, and turns to you shortly, just once, but you see the look on her face that tells you it’s okay. Somehow, it’s all okay, and you know she’s happy. Possibly for the first time, she’s happy. You hold your arm up, waving to her, and she smiles at you, before she walks so far you can’t see her anymore.

She doesn’t return.

 --

You make your way back to your room, feeling too drained to go back to the lounge area. Jake is there, on his side of the room, fumbling around for something. You don’t bother to ask what it is, because you’re more than certain it’s something to do with Dirk, and therefore none of your business. He turns to look at you, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

“Is everything alright?” he asks you in a concerned voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I think I saw a miracle just now,” you say somewhat lamely. He looks confused momentarily, before walking toward you.

“What miracle did you see?”

“Aradia’s gone. She passed on, I think. I was with her.”

“So she… She just left?”

“I don’t know the finer points, but yeah. She was happy though. I feel like she’s happy.”

Jake smiles sadly, ruffling your hair a bit. “You’re certain you’re alright?”

“Yeah.”

He grins uncertainly, and you fidget on your feet for a bit before reaching out to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You don’t realize you’re crying at first, but you don’t really think it matters. Jake holds you just as tightly as you’re holding him, and he’s telling you vaguely that it’s going to be alright, that everything will work out somehow, and that whatever happens, he’ll look out for you. You try to tell him you’re not crying because you’re sad or afraid, but because she was like you. She was like you in so many ways, and she’s _happy_ now. Distantly, you think being happy is all you’ve ever wanted.

You don’t know how long you stand there hugging Jake, and you remember that it doesn’t matter anyway, because no one’s counting seconds here. There are no minutes, no hours, no days. An eternity can happen in a moment, you think to yourself. And somehow, that’s not as overwhelming a thought as it was before.

Childishly, you crawl back in the silly fort the two of you made, and he joins you. Dirk wanders in, looking for Jake, and then the three of you are talking about nothing, your most favorite subject to talk about. Dirk is halfway through a story about puppets of all things when Dave pokes his head in the fort, calling you all a bunch of childish assholes. Dirk swings his leg out, knocking the younger blond to the floor, and then he and Dirk get into a scuffle, and you threaten to kick them out of the fort if they’re just going to destroy it.

The four of you are then crammed inside the tiny makeshift fortress, and your head is swimming with thoughts. You’re thinking of life, you’re thinking of death, and you’re thinking of eternity. You think of Aradia and the story she told you, and you remember feeling close to her, because she knew how it felt to be alone. Your head rolls to the side, and Dave is there, smirking at you in his smug way. He reaches out to hold your nose, and you swat him, calling him an asshole. Jake is to your other side, laughing at Dirk as he tosses a pillow at Dave, and the two exchange argumentative words once more. You smile, and Dave looks at you with an unreadable expression, asking why you’re so happy. You shake your head, still smiling, and close your eyes, immersing yourself in the feeling of having them all so close to you.

You begin to drift off to sleep in your stupid, childish blanket fortress, with the three of them crowded beside you. You think of all the uncertainty, and all you still have left to figure out. Somehow, you think, it’ll all be alright. You think of the other end of the hallway, and the bright light Aradia saw. You hope you can be smiling when you see it too.

When fighting becomes too difficult, you finally give into unconsciousness. You feel something impossibly warm wrap around you before you pass out entirely, and you cling it in kind. You don’t have to open your eyes to know Dave is smiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adorable Striders are adorable, yo.


	6. The Memory and The Star Filled Ceiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POST MORTEM CUDDLES FTW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: My life be like, I don't own these characters. (Oooh, ah. Oooh, ah.)

_You’re on your back, legs propped against the arch of the couch. You’re observing the room upside down, waiting for the other person in the room to talk. She’s across from you, sitting on a cushy armchair, ankles folded together, and her gentle, violet eyes are scanning the pages of your book. You can’t help but notice how her expression morphs with every line she supposedly reads. A million thoughts are running through your head, but you’re far too used to this. “Racing thoughts”, she calls them. You just think they’re hell._

_She closes the book, mouth pressed into a thin line. Her eyes find yours behind your lenses, and you can tell by her expression that she’s having a hard time figuring out how to word what she’s thinking. You cut her off before she can think of a proper sentence._

_“They’re getting worse,” you say. She closes her mouth as soon as she opens it, and her hands grip the spine of the book on her lap. Absently, she lifts one of her hands, brushing some of her short platinum hair behind her ear. You can’t help but think of how beautiful she looks when she’s uncertain, how beautiful_ everyone _looks when they’re uncertain. Oh, how lovely the look of insignificance is. You want to write that down._

_“John, these are…remarkable thoughts,” she says, breaking you from your reverie. “This writing borders on thoughts that philosophers used to think about. I am…utterly impressed.”_

_“No, stop it, Rose,” you say harshly. She’s only a little older than you, and despite the fact that she’s your therapist, you’ve never called her by her last name, and she’s never berated you for calling her by her first. “They’re not remarkable. They aren’t anything but terrifying. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep… I can’t do anything but write in that goddamn book. You said writing them down would help!”_

_“I said I thought it might, and maybe it has? At least you can remember the thoughts now. You used to be very unhappy, because you never remembered them, do you recall that?” You glare at her, swinging your legs back to the carpet, and looking at her right side up._

_“I want them to stop!”_

_“I’ve told you this isn’t something you can control.”_

_“Then give me pills and help me forget.”_

_“No, John.”_

_Hissing a muffled ‘FUCK’ into your hands, you flop into the couch. She’s silent in observing you, and you’re used to that by now. She seems to enjoy dissecting you in silence._

_“It seems like your subconscious is trying to warn you of something,” she finally says. “I think…these might be some sorts of visions.”_

_“I think you’ve got that wrong,” you huff from behind your hands. “I’m **psycho** , not **psychic**.”_

_“One of my favorite things you wrote,” she continues as if she didn’t hear you, “is when you said that beauty is a horror best left to the monsters.”_

_“I don’t even know what the hell it means,” you say, looking up at her. This time you can feel the uncertainty on your own face. She’s smiling in her own way, though her lips never spread more than just a thin line with the corners turned upwards. She reminds you of someone, though you can’t place who. “Am I saying that horror is beautiful? Or am I saying I’m a monster?”_

_“Another one I’m fond of,” she dodges your question, “is when you said you don’t remember sleeping, but you remember nightmares.”_

_She stands, walking over to you and handing you the book back. You clutch it to your chest, breathing normally again. You can’t help but feel helpless when it’s not in your possession. She watches you curl protectively around it, and then places a hand on your shoulder._

_“You need to sleep, John,” she says. “Your father is very worried.”_

_“He’s not worried about me,” you hiss. “He’s worried about what would happen if someone knew how fucked up I am. These little visits with you have only increased because my cousin walked in on me having a nightmare a few weeks ago, and it scared him. Dad only cares when it’s convenient.” You stop talking for a moment, eyes widening slightly. “All of us only care when it’s convenient.”_

_“John?”_

_You open the book and hurriedly jot that down, deeming it worthy of entry. She puts her other hand on yours, trying to lower the pen, and you growl at her, yanking yourself out of her grip._

_“I know I said to write these things down, but I… I think you might need a break from them. You’re missing out on life when you hide behind the pages of uncertainty.”_

_Briefly, you glance up at her, eyebrow quirked over your glasses. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” you say. “I’m dead already.”_

_\--_

You wake with a gasp, and realize very suddenly that you’re not in a small office with a blonde woman you can’t remember. Sitting up, you rub your hands under your glasses, catching some stray tears as they threaten to fall. Finally, you glance around to figure out where exactly you are. All the chairs and tables suggest you’re in the lounge room, and then it all comes crashing back, like it always does when you first wake up.

You’re _dead_. You’re dead, and nothing matters anymore.

Choking on a small sob, you remove your glasses to better rid yourself of the tears, when suddenly there are another set of fingers helping you.

“Wha-“ you start.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You have a bleary vision of Karkat leaning across the table to help you clean your face, but you can’t imagine why he’d be so nice to you. Even so, you don’t ask him to stop, because the touch is comforting.

“I swear, I sit down to get five seconds away from that fucking clown, and here you are, asleep on the insufferable skeleton Dave,” Karkat snarls, scrubbing your cheeks harder than you think he means to. “And then some other blond fucker comes in and steals Dave’s shades, and he chases him while Jake laughs like a three year old, and then you shoot up like a rocket spurting tears from your eye holes.”

“S-Sorry…” you mumble, pulling out of his grip and putting your glasses back on.

“Don’t apologize, stupid. It’s not like I was sitting here blaming you. Did it sound like I was? Because I wasn’t. If I was blaming you for something, believe me, you’d know, because my words would jolt through your body like electricity and maybe shock you into manning the fuck up and stopping your worthless boo-hooing.”

You barely hear him, because you’re thinking of your dream, and it only confirmed your suspicions. You were always a freak of some sort, and you think you’re more than positive that your dad hated you. For some reason, it’s hitting you harder than it normally does. Maybe it’s because you were so distraught in your dream, who knows? Either way, when Karkat’s hand rests on your shoulder, you don’t brush him off.

“Was it bad?” he asks quietly, and you look up at him to nod. He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t remember sleeping,” he finally says, “but I think I remember nightmares.”

You look at him in alarm, but he doesn’t seem to notice, as he’s not looking at you. His hand tightens on your shoulder, and you’re grateful he’s helping you try and feel better. Despite shouting all the time, you think Karkat might be a really nice guy.

“So, Dirk got Dave again, huh?” you ask him, disregarding the thousands of other questions on your mind.

“Ugh. Those fuckers _have_ to be brothers,” he quips. “There’s hardly any issue on that matter.” You hum in agreement, leaning into him.

“What’s it like to sleep?” he asks you suddenly.

“Sometimes it’s like forgetting your problems for just a little while,” you reply quietly, “And other times it’s forcing yourself into a hell you can’t wake from.”

“It’d still be nice to forget for a while.”

There’s a sound of a throat clearing behind you, and you both turn to see Dave standing in the doorway, shades back on his face. He sniffs, brushing a quick finger under his nose, and then he slinks into the room, making his way over to the table on his long legs. You can’t help but think of how unfair it is that he can travel so far in one step when it would take you almost three to cover the same ground.

“What’s all this?” he asks, taking the liberty of sitting on your other side. “You two havin’ some sort of cuddle fest? Post mortem bro snuggles? Feelin’ all sentimental from dreamland, Johnny-Q?”

You notice how thick his accent is at the moment, and you grin as you reach out to finger the rim of his shades. “I see you got these back.”

“Shit, man. Dirk is a colossal douche in every meaning of the word. He fuckin’ _knows_ what a dick move it is to steal a bro’s shades.”

“Maybe he just realized you were a boil on the ass of humanity?” Karkat offers. Without missing a beat, Dave sticks his finger in his mouth, and then reaches across you to shove it in Karkat’s ear, and you manage to get out of the way just in time before the smaller of the two tries to tackle the other. They grapple for a moment as Karkat _finally_ lands a blow in Dave’s stomach, but it’s not very effective in deterring your lanky friend from attacking back. Part of you thinks maybe you should intervene, but the other part of you says this is just too funny to interrupt. Besides, it all seems to be good-natured. They don’t appear to be _really_ trying to hurt each other.

You’re laughing at them, finding it nice just to _smile_ for a bit. Your friends are always a good distraction from the reality in which you currently find yourself in, and you’re grateful for them and their ridiculousness. Karkat stands and brushes his black T-shirt off with a scowl on his face, shoving Dave’s face away when the blond waggles his eyebrows at him, and then makes his way to the door, grumbling about pretentious assholes and how he has better things to do. Dave turns to you then, informing you that no one could possibly have _anything_ better to do than talk to him, and you roll your eyes at him. He walks back to plop in the chair beside you, and you can tell he’s looking at you through his shades.

“So you gonna tell me why you were all cuddly with Karkitty?” he says in a voice void of emotion. Somehow, you can sense from him that the question isn’t entirely as blasé as he’s making it out to be.

“I had a really bad dream,” you say quietly, not really wanting to go back into it. He sighs.

“Shit, man. I didn’t think you’d have one of your fucked up terrors in the short time I was gone. My bad.”

“No, I…don’t really expect you to always just stick around me in the off chance I have a bad dream. I mean, you don’t sleep or anything, so it’s not fair of me to just assume you’ll stick around while I’m unconscious. Besides, Karkat was helping me feel better, so it’s all okay now.”

He frowns at you. “Were you crying?”

“Um, a little,” you say, unconsciously reaching up to check for any stray tears. “Why?”

“You’ve never had one so bad it made you cry.”

“This one was…well, it might be the same as the others? I really don’t know. I don’t remember them much after I wake up, but…I remember this one.”

He scoots closer in his chair, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You lean against him, silently enjoying his company, and his touch. Karkat was comfortable, but with Dave, it’s just always different. You feel so…at _ease_ with him. He makes you feel so safe. You tell him so in a quiet voice, and he laughs shortly, saying it’s weird for you to feel _unsafe_ when you’re not even alive. That’s probably a valid point.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you sit there wrapped together, or how long you _don’t_ , but after a short time, or maybe a long time, you tell him you want to lie down. He asks if you want to go back to your room, but you shake your head. He watches you stand and walk to the middle of the large room, sitting on the carpeted floor for a short time before finally falling back. You hear his soft footfalls on the padded floor, and then he’s beside you again, both of you on your backs with your legs spread out. He makes a snarky remark that you choose weird places to sleep just like a cat, and you nudge him in the arm vacantly, informing him that you don’t have any intention to sleep right now. You just want to lie here with him for a little bit. His head rolls to the side to look at you, and you meet his gaze, offering a small smile. He reaches up to cup your face.

“Sorry I missed your jacked up nightmare,” he says. “Had to leave the comforting to Karkat of all people. I’m like the worst fucking knight ever. Princess John had to wake up to a complete douchesprit trying to mack on him in my absence. Shit ain’t right, my man. I should be beheaded for my crimes against the kingdom.”

“Oh my god, Dave,” you laugh. “You and your rants.”

“I’m serious, John,” he says quietly. “I should’ve been here.”

“It’s not important. You’re here now.” You turn back to stare up at the ceiling.

“I like to be there when you wake up though,” he replies. “It freaks me the hell out when you wake up screaming sometimes, but I, uh. I feel like it helps you to see me when you wake up. You know?”

“Mmm,” you agree. “It helps when you’re close to me.”

“We’re pretty close right now,” he says, his head rolling back to face the ceiling again, same as yours. You hum to show you heard him, reaching your hand out to run your fingers along his knuckles. He turns his hand over so your palms brush together, and you wrap your fingers around his, perfectly content.

“Dave,” you say quietly.

“Hm?”

“I wish you could tell me about yourself.”

“Hey, man, you and me both.”

“I wish I could remember everything about myself, but I’m scared to,” you whisper. “All of my dreams and the things in my book tell me they’re not great memories.”

“John.”

“What if I’m a monster, Dave?” Your lip trembles at the thought. “What if I killed someone here?”

“I can’t say whether you did or didn’t,” he says, “but the same can be said about anyone here. If there was some psychotic mass murdering maniac here without their memories, they’d be pretty harmless, don’t you think?” You nod to show agreement. “See? I could’ve killed you, you could’ve killed me. We don’t know.”

“Aren’t you scared of that?” you ask.

“Nah, man. Being scared of something that already happened doesn’t make sense. That’s like looking back at something stupid you said years ago and still getting embarrassed about it. There’s no point to it. All we can do is move forward. I mean, we’re all dead as shit, but obviously if we’re still here and consciously aware of who we are _now_ , and not who we _were_ , I’d say there’s something else to look forward to.”

You take comfort in that thought, and squeeze his hand in yours. He sighs happily, his other arm moving behind his head.

“Tell me some of the stuff you remember.” Dave breaks the silence, and you blink in surprise.

“Huh? Like what?”

“Just anything. What’s one of the good things you remember about life? Every time I try to think about something, I just see fucking puppets. It’s weird as hell.”

You laugh, and he scowls over at you. “Dave, I think you and Dirk are brothers,” you tell him, thinking of earlier conversations with the older blond. He nods.

“Yeah, we’ve pretty much already had that little conversation. He’s still an asshole though. I think he used to be some kind of sadist. He’s probably the one who killed everyone here, you know. Anyone who likes puppets that much _can’t_ be a rational person.”

“Hehe, probably not.”

“So c’mon Johnny Boy. Tell me something nice.”

“Well,” you begin, licking your lips as you try to think back to one specific memory. It’s true that you’ve seen many good things, as well as many bad things. Sometimes you’ll just have little visions while you’re conscious, and you have to think really hard to remember what exactly they are. As you’re lying on the floor thinking, the ceiling above you seems to grow darker. Gasping, you ask if Dave notices, and he says no. Soon the entire room seems to be growing dim, and you can make out little pinpoints of light appearing around the two of you. They’re growing steadily brighter as the room grows even darker, and you smile in realization to what your mind is trying to tell you.

“Stars,” you say. “I remember how much I loved the stars.”

“What are they like?” Dave asks.

“They were always outside at night. Everything would be dark and the streets would be emptier than normal, and I’d sneak out of my window to the roof of my house,” you tell him. “I remember lying on my back, just like this, looking up at them, and feeling like…like maybe everything would be alright. That a universe that created something so perfect had to know what it was doing, and that maybe…maybe I wasn’t as alone as I felt.” You laugh humorlessly at the thought. “Little lights in the sky used to comfort me. Pretty lame, huh?” Dave’s hand is clenching yours so tightly it’s almost painful, and you can see him clenching his jaw.

“No. It’s not lame. I think I feel the same,” he says, and to your surprise, he reaches with his other hand to pull his shades off his face. “Nothing about anything that makes you feel better is lame.”

“You make me feel better, and you’re pretty lame,” you grin.

“Fuck you, John. You don’t know my life.”

“To be fair, you’re not alive.”

“Then fuck you _twice_.”

Laughing loudly, you turn to face him, and he looks over at you with his blazing crimson gaze. It makes your breath hitch every time, and you really enjoy when he doesn’t wear his sunglasses. His emotions are so clear in his eyes, and you can read a million things going through his mind as he looks at you.

“Promise me you won’t leave me here,” Dave says so quietly you can barely him.

“Dave?”

“You said Aradia passed on from remembering whatever the fuck she was supposed to remember. It’s only a matter of time before that happens to all of us, and you seem to be remembering faster than anyone else.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, and then moves closer to you. “I don’t- I don’t want us to be…”

“I know,” you cut him off, and he rests his forehead against yours, grateful you understood what he was saying. “I want you to be wherever I go.” The corners of his lips twitch upwards in a little smile.

“Tell me something else you remember,” he says.

“I always wanted someone to feel as comfortable with as I do with you.”

“Something else.”

“I love it when you’re the first thing I see when I wake up.” His eyes widen a little, and both of his hands move to your face as you look at each other. One of his thumbs brushes against your lips.

“John,” he breathes.

“I think I waited my whole life for you, Dave.”

And then he’s moving forward, his lips brushing against yours in a touch that’s barely there, but still causes a slight fire to surge through you. Both of you are breathing shakily, the hot air blooming between your faces as you part, eyes locked on each other.

“Sorry I was too late,” Dave finally says.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, moving to rest your head against his chest and watch the stars that aren’t really there. “You’re here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it's possible to put into words what these two together does to me, so it's easier to put it into an action. Thus: 
> 
> *rips off clothes and rolls in the floor* DAVEJOHHHHNNNNNNNN!!!


	7. The Chalk Drawings and The Admissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SHIPS AT WARP SPEED* This chapter badmouths religion a little bit, so that's a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't see how you can hate from outside of the club. You can't even get in! (I don't own these characters!) LEGGO.

“Oh, blast it all, I’m a god awful artist!” 

You turn to look at Jake as you finish drawing the leaves on the tree you were working on, and find him struggling with a skull. The eye sockets are completely different sizes. You hazard a laugh at him, and he turns to you huffily. 

“It’s not funny, John! This isn’t even a hard thing I’m trying to convey here! Why can’t my stupid hands draw the picture in my head?” 

“Well, I guess because if we could all do that, we’d all be amazing at art,” you grin, scooting closer to him. “Just add more black to this one,” you point, “and maybe try to keep inside the lines.”

“Lines are meant to be crossed, dear boy!”

“I think I see why you’re bad at this.”

“ _You’re_ bad at this!”

“Oh my god. No.”

He turns back to do as you instructed, and you turn to your own drawing, the grin still plastered to your face. You really like Jake. The two of you don’t spend much time together, seeing as how he’s always off doing…whatever the hell it is he and Dirk do all the time, and you’ve been spending all of your time with Dave. Right now though, you’re both drawing on the wall with Terezi and Nepeta, and you’re having a lot of fun. Jake’s sense of humor is similar to yours, and while you’re lecturing his half assed skills, you can’t draw for shit either. Your tree is horribly lopsided. 

You find it funny that Dave is always whining about what an asshole Dirk is, but they seem to seek each other’s company as much as you seek Jake’s. While they’ve been identified as brothers, you still aren’t certain what your relation to Jake is. In one of your dreams, you remember mentioning you were an only child, and you remember the mention of a male cousin, but nothing is solid yet. You think the solution is to spend alone time with him, because it might spur your memories. Dave decided if you were going to do that, he’d do the same with Dirk. You didn’t respond, but you had smiled at him sadly. He really is terrified you’ll remember faster than him and leave him here, so anything you do, he tries to do too. To be honest, you’re scared of that, too.

“There we are!” Jake exclaims beside you, and you turn to see his skull is looking more like what it’s supposed to, and less like a green blob with black smudges. He’s smiling triumphantly, and you clap him on the shoulder.

“This deserves a gold star,” you tell him.

“Righto! Perhaps even two or three of them! It looks a sight better than your tree, I daresay.”

“Hey, now. Don’t hate on my tree. It’s trying to be as treelike as it can be, but it forgets basic tree functions sometimes.”

“That’s quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in a long while, and I’ve listened to Dirk compare horses to dragons.”

“Dragons?”

“Giant lizard winged things. They breathe fire.”

“…How is that-?”

“Something along the lines of ‘can’t be tamed’ and ‘majestic’. I don’t know, really,” Jake laughs heartily, a look of such fondness on his face that it makes you blush. “Dirk is something else.”

You watch him for a moment as he fingers the chalk absently. “You really love him, huh?” you finally ask. Jake drops the chalk.

“Wh-What? Love? Oh, my!” You laugh at him as he fumbles to pick up the discarded chalk, looking more and more flustered. “I don’t know about all of that, now! I mean, all of us are well past the stages of post mortem and all that! So this is…spirit realm? I’m still not entirely certain of all the semantics, but love!” He tugs at his collar. “That’s quite a solicitation!”

“I’m only saying it because it’s true!” you say, finally taking pity and handing him the chalk before he hurts himself. “You should see your face right now.”

“You look totally adorable as always, Jakey-Wakey!” Nepeta sing-songs, twirling past the two of you. She never sticks to one wall, as she’s almost always bounding along. Equius is sitting at one of the tables, seemingly content with just watching. Terezi is across from you and Jake, focused on drawing a line of stuffed animals hanging by their necks. 

“Why thank you, miss Nepeta!” Jake calls to her before turning back to you. “All that aside, I could say the same to you! It’s not only me falling head over heels, now is it?”

“Probably not,” you say tiredly. “But it seems kind of…horrible in a way.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“It’s not sad to you to think of never finding love until you were dead?”

“Well, this is the afterlife, chap. I’d say it’s more…eternal than regular love?” he winks at you. “And even if that wasn’t the case, at least you’d know you found it while you were still yourself.” 

You blink, slightly startled by his explanation. “You know, you’re a pretty smart guy, Jake.”

“And you’re quite a charmer!” He turns to look at the wall you two defiled. “But I’d hazard the generalization that neither of us are good at art.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

You both startle as Nepeta returns suddenly, leaning over Jake’s shoulder. “Guess what I learned!” she squeals.

“How to not invade personal space?” Terezi calls, and Nepeta sticks her tongue out at her.

“No! Remember the stars you told me about, John?” she asks, and you nod up at her. “Well, Equius said they tell stories!”

“Stories?” you ask, slightly confused. “How so?”

“They make pictures! Right, Equius?” 

“Yes, they most certainly do.” 

When you look over to Jake, his blank expression seems to match yours, so you take some solace in the fact that it’s not just you who doesn’t understand. Finally, Equius walks over to your little group and begins drawing various dots, connecting a few to make zigzags and odd shapes. He tells a few stories with them, and you find yourself entranced by the seemingly impossible tales. Nepeta is practically cooing at the muscular man, telling him he’s a genius. 

You listen intently to the story of the queen willing to sacrifice all of her subjects just to save herself from having to apologize for boasting she was more beautiful than even the gods. Her punishment is for her constellation to appear upside down when it’s most vividly seen by the naked eye. You think to yourself how cruel it is to be so ensnared by vanity that she would allow Poseidon’s monster to wreak havoc on her kingdom, and Nepeta seems to agree with you.

“I don’t like that mean queen!” she says. “Letting all those people be killed. Serves her right being upside down, no matter how pretty she was! What a monster!”

“That _is_ how it goes sometimes, dear Nepeta,” Equius says, twirling the chalk between his beefy fingers. “Beauty is a horror _best_ left to the monsters.”

You gasp as he says this, and he jumps to look at you, accidentally crumbling the chalk in his hands.

“Oh, fiddlesticks!” he yelps upon realizing he broke something of Terezi’s, and you don’t miss how he whips around to make sure she didn’t see. Of course, it doesn’t matter if she saw or not, because with her insanely powerful ears, she most likely heard. 

“You owe me another blue, beefcake,” she says, not bothering to turn around.

“Ah, y-yes, of course. That is only fair.”

“John? Are you quite alright?” Jake asks you suddenly, and you level your eyes on him to try and give your most convincing smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking of what else to draw,” you lie, but he seems to buy it. The two of you continue to scrawl on the wall while Nepeta leads Equius away to make him try to scribble other pictures with her. When you turn to grab a green, you start when you realize someone is there. Gamzee hands you the green with a smile.

“Were you all up and looking for this, my artistically inclined brother?” 

“Uh, yeah, thanks!” you say, reaching for it. “You kind of scared me.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I was walking around a little aimlessly when I saw you two motherfuckers all cuddled up and drawing, so I had to be joining.” 

“Where is that shouty fellow you normally have with you?” Jake asks.

“Karbro is arguing with Sollux and Tavros about something, and I just wanted to leave all that hostile shit. I don’t motherfuckin’ understand why everyone has to be so hostile all the goddamn time.”

“That’s just part of associating with Karkat,” you laugh. “Do you want to draw with us?”

“Nah, I’m good. Y’all be getting your motherfuckin’ creativity on though. Imma watch from here.”

You finish your stick figures while Jake draws a bad pair of pistols, and everything is silent again for a little while. Gamzee is humming absently beside you, and it’s actually kind of pleasant to listen to. When you set your chalk down to stretch your arms above your head, your gaze wanders over to the constellations Equius drew on the wall. Gamzee lights up a cigarette while Jake flops against you, asking what you’re looking at so intently. 

“Do you think those stories could be true?” you ask him. “All those gods and goddesses? It all seemed far-fetched, but all of this kind of does.”

“Gods?” Gamzee scoffs, exhaling some smoke. “Who told you all that shit?” 

“They’re in the stars,” you reply. “Or…they were, I guess. I don’t guess our stars are the same anymore.”

“Lemme tell you something about the gods, my brother,” Gamzee says, flicking his ashes in an indistinct direction, “it’s all nothing but some motherfuckin’ bullshit.”

“Boy howdy, that’s quite the broad thing to say!” Jake exclaims, and you roll your eyes because _boy howdy._

“I remember this shit, my man. I remember gods and whatnot. The ‘one true’ god and his ‘one true’ son. I all up and remember getting lectured on that particular motherfuckin’ concept for my whole life. We’re supposed to be believing in some great being in the sky, watching us, knowing what’s best for us and judging us all the time. Living your life to someone else’s standards for fear of punishment from a being who might not even exist,” he exhales more smoke. “It’s motherfuckin’ bullshit.”

“What do you remember about him?” you ask. “God, I mean.”

“I remember he was supposed to have all our best interests at heart. Being told suffering would all up and come to an end one day. Miracles were coming. Shit was happening, and we were making it happen by believing in it. Ain’t that some bitchin’ concepts they preach? What’s fucked up is the part they never talked about, which was how all that was nothing but a motherfuckin’ lie, schoolfed to all of us so we wouldn’t question their standards.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Jake asks quietly.

“Because if there was a god up there,” Gamzee says, rubbing the cigarette into the carpet, “I wouldn’t have been as motherfuckin’ miserable as I was.” 

“Yeah,” you say, “that’s true.”

“I do believe in miracles though,” Gamzee sighs, flopping back to stretch his long joints. “So if that motherfucker in the clouds wants to prove me wrong, I’m all up and willing to be converted.”

“What do you think the point of all this is, then?” you ask him, and he grins crookedly up at you.

“Who motherfuckin’ cares? This might be all we get. Live it up, my brother.”

“Do you think it’s crazy that…I wouldn’t mind if there wasn’t much after this?” you implore. Jake’s eyebrows arch in question, and Gamzee grunts. “I mean, I think I was pretty messed up, so…I doubt my afterlife would be all that great.”

“I’m more than certain you were a stand up gent in your life before, John,” Jake tells you earnestly. “I would’ve kept you in check!” When he shoots his double pistols and a wink move, you shake your head, but can’t help the grin that covers your face.

“That doesn’t make you crazy, my man,” Gamzee says from the floor. “That just makes you a motherfuckin’ human.”

Before you can say anything else to him, you feel something impossibly warm wrap around your midsection. You look down to see sleeve-clad arms around you, and lanky legs outstretched on either side of your body. Your back is against a comfy chest, and a blond head is on your shoulder.

“Sup?” Dave asks, as per usual. You nuzzle your head against his.

“Sup yourself,” you greet with a smile, and he smirks at you. “How was family time?”

He makes an illegible noise, and then exhales so deeply that his breath gives you chill bumps where it hits your neck. “Have I ever told you what an asshole Dirk is?”

“It might’ve come up once or twice,” you say. “Did you remember anything?”

“Nah. Uh. Did you?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, sweet.” You see his head turn to observe the wall of eternal scribbles. “What the fuck am I looking at?”

“That’s my tree,” you say proudly. “Any snarky remarks will be punished by a bitch slap to the face.”

“Hey, man, I’m not about to bad mouth your tree. Shit’s bad mouthing itself.”

“Daaaaave!”

“What do you think this is, Dave?” Jake asks eagerly, pointing to his drawing. You feel Dave’s head turn slightly to the side.

“…A skull?” he finally asks, and Jake gives you a smug grin. 

“I give up on everything,” you say irritably, crossing your arms over your chest. Dave reaches up to place his hand over yours, gripping it slightly.

“I only knew what it was because if your eyes are almost closed, it looks sort of like one,” he offers, and you laugh. Jake sighs, standing up to brush chalk off his shorts. 

“Am I to assume Dirk is in your room?” he asks Dave.

“Probably. Most likely ready to jump your dorky bones, too.”

“Capital! See you later, John!” He makes his way to the hallway while Dave’s attention redirects to the lanky man beside you.

“You alright, Gamzee?”

“Motherfuckin’ chill, my brother.”

“Sweet.”

“You missed the best stories,” you tell him after he and Gamzee fist bump. “Equius was talking about constellations and gods, and then Gamzee had all this stuff to say, and it was really cool.”

“You’ll just have to fill me in, then.”

“Want me to see if Equius will tell the story again?”’

“Nah. I wanna hear you tell it. I’m sadly enamored with your dorky voice.”

“Oh, _swoon_ , Dave. I’m sadly enamored with your douche-ness, too.”

He reaches up to turn your head so you’re facing him, and then he’s kissing you, pecking you gently on the corner of your mouth before you mumble incoherently and he grins, pressing his mouth firmly to yours. 

“You’re such a sassy little asshole,” he tells you when you part, and you huff at him, reaching up to finger his shades again.

“You shut your whore mouth.”

“See? That’s totally explicit. You could give Karkitty a run for his boonbucks. Like, no one would even expect it, ‘cause they’d see those sweet little innocent eyes of yours and think they were safe, and then you just open your mouth and all this sass comes out, and it burns people so bad that they just fucking die. I bet that’s how I died. You just unleashed so much sass on me that I couldn’t handle it.”

“You were stabbed, you douchelord.”

“Or your mouth was so snarky that it made my soul burst out so hard that it made little holes in my torso.” He kisses you again, slow and sweet, and when he pulls away you find your mouth is following his, refusing to break contact. He makes you so happy, it’s almost sad. You wonder if he realizes the full effect he has on you. He has to, doesn’t he?  
You pull away from his death grip, and stand up, holding your hand out to him. He takes it, and you’re leading him into the hallway, both of you walking toward your room after saying respectable goodbyes to everyone in the lounge area. The journey is short, and silent. You’re focused on his warm hand covering yours, and the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles just so. You try to reciprocate the motion, and he chuckles slightly, squeezing your hand tightly in his. When you reach the room, you go directly to the fort, crawling inside. Dave follows, and when he settles you nuzzle against him, soaking in his warmth.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how glad I am that you and Jake weren’t just hashing up a storm of memories,” he says. 

“You worry too much about that,” you laugh shortly. “I don’t remember that much more than you do regularly.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he says, but he still doesn’t look convinced. You reach up to remove his shades, and he lets you, blinking at you to get his eyes used to the new light.

“I love your eyes,” you tell him, watching them light up as you say so. “They’re so…unique. I always feel like I’m in on a little secret when you let me see them.”

“Shit, man,” he says quietly, forehead leaning against yours. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me some stories?”

“Which one do you wanna hear first?”

“Any one,” he says. “Just talk, John. Just talk to me.” 

So you do. You start by telling him about you and Jake drawing (badly) on the wall. You tell him about Jake getting all flustered about Dirk, but leave out the part where you did the same about him. You tell him about how much you like Jake, and how you think he might actually be the cousin you’ve mentioned in your dreams. You tell him about the stories in the stars, ending with the upside down queen. You tell him what Gamzee was saying before he joined the three of you. The entire time you’re talking, he’s watching your mouth move around your words. One of his hands is on your hip, and the other is tracing your bottom lip, but he simply lies there listening to you intently, occasionally offering a small smile when your rant gets passionate. Then, you sit up so fast he jumps.

“John?” he asks warily.

“I just remembered something!” you say, clamoring out of the fort to head to the corner you hid your book in (since your bed is currently occupied by being part of a totally crescent fresh fort). You make your way back to Dave, settling in the pillows with him and opening the book. You don’t miss the labored way he’s breathing, or the crease in his forehead.

“When Equius was talking earlier,” you begin, “he said something that I had a dream about. Something about monsters.” You flip through the pages hurriedly, most of them still blank with the occasional sentence here and there. “I remember it because I didn’t know what it meant in my dream, and I was asking my therapist what it meant.” Finally, you find it, and you show it to Dave. _Beauty is a horror best left to the monsters._

“This wasn’t here last time I checked. It’s like the book is filling up by itself or something.”

“Do you remember what it was before you died?” he asks. “Like, what it was filled with?”

“Oh, yeah. Those voices I was hearing. I just started writing them down for some reason. From what I can understand in my dreams, it made my dad really upset or something. I don’t remember too much on it, though.”

“Did you ask Equius where he heard it from?”

“I don’t think he heard it anywhere,” you say quietly. “He’s not the first one who said something that later appeared in the book. Aradia did before she passed, and Karkat did a little while ago.”

“So what’s that mean, exactly?” Dave asks, touching his fingers along the freshly formed sentence like he thinks it’s not real.

“I’m not sure,” you say, “but it’s something important. Apparently, I thought so before I died, too.”

“John,” he says, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair, “this is- I mean, it’s really fucking amazing and I’d be a lying asshole if I said I wasn’t like completely blown away by all you’re telling me here, but-“

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you,” you interrupt him, “and I won’t.”

“I know you promised,” he breathes, the warmth of his breath hot against your lips. “It just feels kinda inevitable, y’know?”

You shake your head, tossing the book to the side and moving closer to Dave so you can kiss him. He sighs against your mouth, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip in a silent question, and you open your mouth in answer. Your tongues meet heatedly, and they swirl around each other as you each try to get even closer to each other. You can’t help the blissful moan that slides past your lips when he licks behind your teeth, his hands tangling in your hair. His teeth nip your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, observing your expression.

“If this is all we get,” you whisper against his lips, “then we just need to enjoy it now. I want to spend every moment just like this, with you. And whatever happens, we’ll just- we’ll deal with it together. I know I was supposed to find you here. I know we’re supposed to be together. I just…I don’t know how I know. I don’t know anything about any of this, but…I’m supposed to be with you, Dave. We were made to find each other.”

“Is it alright if I tell you I’m pretty much in love with you?” he asks, and your laugh sounds startlingly close to a sob.

“Only if it’s okay that I say it back,” you say, and he pulls your face against his once more. You find you think of the impending future less and less with Dave here, and you find that nothing bothers you as long as he’s beside you.

Past is present is future, you think. Life is afterlife is eternity. Nothing is something is everything. And somewhere, some tiny, insignificant place in all of forever, are you and Dave, just like this, just like always. And somehow, you think to yourself, that’s perfectly alright.  


The book lies forgotten, if only for a little while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *aggressively wishes for pillow fort fanart of these nerds* It was totally just my birthday, if that helps anyone! (I know you guys are all fucking amazing artists, okay? Now C'MON!!!)
> 
> Also, for a soundtrack to this chapter, click [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHEOF_rcND8%20)


	8. The Loss, The Gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone leaves for good, and there's blanket fort smut because reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I got some issues that nobody can see, and all of these emotions are pouring out of me. (I don't own these characters!)

You’re in Karkat’s room, and he’s ranting up a storm. You wish you knew what it was about, but he lost you way at the beginning when he called a shower an ‘ablution hole’. He’s a hard guy to understand. You wonder if maybe he was from a different country in your lives before. As if somehow aware that you’re lost in thoughts about him, his narrowed gaze squares in on you.

“Am I fucking amusing you, John? Is this something you’re enjoying somehow? Yeah, pissing me off is a goddamn riot, isn’t it?”

“Uh.”

“What the fuck are you even staring at, cockgoblin?”

“Nothing! Jeeze, Karkat, why are you being so mean?” you grumble.

“I’m not being anything!”

“What John’s trying to ask,” Dave supplies from beneath you, since you’re lounging shamelessly in his lap, “is whether or not someone did or didn’t light the fuse on your tampon, Karkitty.”

“Ew, Dave!”

“Hey, how about you both shove each other’s cocks back in your mouths so I don’t have to hear either of your bullshit for a while?”

“Well, we would, but it’s hard to get my mack on when someone in the room is obviously menstruating negatively.”

Karkat’s eye is twitching, and you decide to diffuse the situation before it can escalate further. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“It’s-“ He seems to be trying to decide whether or not to answer honestly. “It’s Gamzee.”

“Hey, yeah where is that lanky bastard?” Dave asks. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He’s been off by himself a lot. Whenever I find him, he doesn’t really talk much. He just has this shit-eating grin on his face and says he’s thinking about the universe or some shit, and then he wanders off again. It’s fucking weird,” Karkat says.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about him. I mean, this is _Gamzee_ we’re talking about. He’s probably thinking about dandelion fluff and soda carbonation,” Dave smirks, running a hand absently up your spine. You lean back against him until he spreads his legs so your ass hits the floor and his legs are around you, pulling your back against his chest. This is your favorite way to be held by him, you think. He’s so warm he’s practically a furnace.

“He could be off somewhere with Tavros,” you supply helpfully. “They do stupid stuff together sometimes.”

“No, Tavros is in the lounge area. I have no fucking clue where Gamzee is right now, but I assume he’s wandering aimlessly like the pile of anal phlegm he is.”

“Technically, piles of anything wouldn’t _wander_. They’d sort of roll,” Dave supplies, and both you and Karkat shoot him a disapproving glance. “What?”

“Sometimes I wonder if this is really Hell, and my punishment is to have to listen to the endless dribble that oozes from that orifice you call a mouth,” Karkat hisses.

“Hey man, if this is Hell, you got off easy. Any Hell that would let you look at my beautiful face every day is a Hell we should all be so lucky to go to. Then again, I guess I’m hot enough to fan the flames, y’know, so yeah, this could be Hell. I’m like the pilot light that keeps us all warm with my hot bod.”

“Dave,” you laugh, nudging his head with yours, “I don’t think now is the time for your rambles.”

“I don’t _ramble_.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dave Skellington,” Karkat says before he turns to you. “What do you think is up with Gamzee?”

“Well,” you say quietly, licking your lips, “he could just be trying to remember who he used to be. Or he could…already sort of remember? He was being weird the last time I talked to him, too.”

“How?”

“He was talking about God, and…stuff. I mean, it was smart stuff he was saying, but it was kinda weird hearing it from Gamzee, I guess?”

“I really don’t like this,” Karkat says, and the look on his face is making you uneasy. You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder.

“We can go look for him,” you tell him. “Maybe it’ll help calm him down or something to have his friends near.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, ‘cause my ass is asleep,” Dave says from under you. “I’m pretty sure I almost forgot I had one.”

“You almost don’t, you skinny fuck,” Karkat says.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been looking, Karkitty. I see you checking me out on a regular basis, don’t deny it. Your gaze is so X-rated it almost ruins my virtuous maiden status.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up to stretch, offering a hand to Dave to help him up. Karkat leads you both out into the hall, and begins walking towards the lounge.

“I guess we can go ask Tavros if he’s seen him lately. I don’t even know where to look for him,” he tells you.

“Well, he can’t have gone far, at least. We’re kind of all stuck here,” you smile, trying to make him feel better, but he only glances back at you for a second to show he heard. Dave’s fingers slide through yours, and you grip the warm digits firmly, holding on for comfort. What you’re scared of, you don’t know. You only know that you’re scared. Dave must pick up on that, because he grips your hand just as tightly, and you can practically feel his gaze on you even if you can’t see past his sunglasses.

You’re almost to the lounge door when you catch sight of Gamzee. He’s sitting on the ground, back up against the wall and a thoughtful look on his face. Karkat was right; it _is_ slightly unsettling to see such an expression from Gamzee. His head tilts towards you when you’re near, and a sly smile spreads across his face.

“What’s happening, my brothers?” he asks.

“Came looking for your dopey ass,” Dave says absently. “Mission accomplished, I say.”

“What are you doing on the floor, you ignorant fuckass?” Karkat asks, but his voice is lacking it’s usual venom. Gamzee seems to pick up on that, because he offers the shorter man a smile you can only describe as comforting.

“Oh, you know,” he says, “Mother Gravity all up and knocked me down or some shit. I think the floor is a righteous enough place to be.”

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Nothing makes sense though, does it?” He looks down the opposite end of the hall, a distant look on his face, and oh. _Oh._ You know what’s happening now. “I’ve been thinking about that for a motherfuckin’ while now. How none of this makes sense.”

“Listen, you- Gamzee,” Karkat begins, and you can tell he’s unnerved because he’s trying to censor himself. “We’re all fucking worried about that bullshit, okay? There might not be any sense to be made. But you don’t have to wander off alone for however long you’ve been out here. You’re starting to weird me the hell out. You’re not being yourself.”

“And who am I, Karbro?” Gamzee asks, leveling such an intense gaze on the shorter male that you find yourself latching to Dave’s arm. “How do I normally be acting? I’m all up and glad you know how I normally am, because I’ve been remembering all sorts of motherfuckin’ shit about myself, and lemme tell you, it ain’t nothing like what we’ve been talking about.”

“Gamzee, I- What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Lots of shit, my brother. Lots of shit.”

“What do you remember, Gamzee?” you ask him quietly. Dave’s hand clenches yours. He finally understands what’s going on.

Gamzee stands, still leaning against the wall, but towering over all of you still. He grins slightly, the look on his face reminding you of the last time you were in this situation, and then he looks back down the hallway.

“You know, I remembered seeing a man on the street once,” he says distantly. “He was running by all fast and shit, not really seeming like he had any motherfuckin’ destination. I watched him run by, wondering what the hell he was doing. And then I saw him again a few days later, running again, so I asked him what he was motherfuckin’ running from.”

Karkat has moved closer to him, absently reaching for the lanky man’s hand and squeezing it in his own. Your breath hitches at the look on his face.

“And that motherfucker- hah, he told me he was running from the past. I think he was tripping balls or something, who fucking knows. I never saw him again, but I always thought about what he said. Running from the past. It made me think about what I was motherfuckin’ running from.”

“Gamzee,” Karkat says quietly, “I don’t- I don’t want you to…”

“Then one night, I was running. Just all up and got the motherfuckin’ urge to start moving faster and faster, and then I was running through the city. Then this voice asks me what I’m running from, and you know what I said? I said to that motherfucker, I’m running from the future. Fuck the past, it’s already happened. It’s the future I’m scared of. And then, you wanna know what motherfuckin’ happened to me? He told me I ain’t gotta run from no future, ‘cause I didn’t have one. Motherfucker stabbed me over and over again.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous, and then he shakes his head almost wearily. As if he’s tired from remembering all of this. He looks down at Karkat, and then pulls him in for a loose hug, having to bend down at an almost comical angle to wrap his arms around the shorter man.

“And remembering all that just opened up the gates, my brothers. Looks like my motherfuckin’ number is up.”

“Gamzee, you can’t just leave me here,” Karkat says, looking somewhere between hysterical and furious. “I swear I’ll never fucking forgive you if you leave me here!”

“It’s gonna be alright, Karbro. You’re gonna be motherfuckin’ fine.”

“Shit, man,” Dave says, and you aren’t sure whether or not he meant to say it out loud. His hand is on yours so tight it’s almost painful, but you don’t dare ask him to loosen his grip. “John-”

“I’m right here,” you say needlessly. “I’m right beside you.”

As if just alerted of your presence, Gamzee slinks over to the two of you, wrapping you both in a hug at the same time since you’re standing so closely together. You hug him back with your free hand, and you can’t see Dave, but you think he’s doing the same.

“Guess it’s time to see if there really is a god, huh?” he asks you, and your laugh is a sob.

“Are you scared?” you ask.

“I’ve already been through Hell,” he says as he pulls away. “And I ain’t motherfuckin’ running no more.”

He turns back to Karkat, who’s trying very hard not to cry by this point, and kisses his forehead, lips lingering there for just a moment, before pulling away.

“Gamzee, please-“

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Gamzee says with a shit-eating grin that only causes Karkat’s face to contort with sadness that he tries to pass off as a scowl. “You better motherfuckin’ believe this ain’t goodbye, best friend.”

He walks down the hall until he’s no longer visible. And like Aradia, he doesn’t return.

 --

Karkat didn’t want comfort, he said. He just wanted to be alone. You aren’t certain what his relationship with Gamzee was, but you know they were close, and you feel an unfathomable amount of sorrow for him. After he returned to his room, Dave began tugging you back towards yours. He’s being uncharacteristically quiet, but you know why. You know what he’s thinking about, because you’re thinking about it, too.

What if you both _do_ end up separated?

He pulls you into your room, and closes the door behind him. You open your mouth to say something, _anything_ , to make him give you that smug smirk he normally gives you, but before you can say a word, he’s kissing you. His mouth is fierce and urgent against yours, and his kisses are so deep you feel like you’re drowning, but you don’t care. You need this. You need _him_.

And he needs you.

Dave doesn’t let your lips go for too long, even when trying to maneuver your bodies into the pillows inside the fort. He’s flicking his tongue in and out of your mouth in a perverse manner that only makes you think of something else, and _shit_ , that’s good. It’s so fucking good. He’s being so possessive and it’s just what you need. Your back finally hits the comfort of the pillows before it’s arching off of them, into his warm body over yours, and he groans his appreciation before plunging back in to taste even more of you.

Your hands reach up to pull his shades off, and you toss them to the side carefully before doing the same with your glasses. He looks down at you, panting and cursing quietly, mouth as red as his eyes before slamming his lips back against yours, hands roaming down over your body. You moan in encouragement when his nimble fingers slide over your collarbone, the skin to skin contact giving you shivers. He picks up on the way it affects you, and then his hands are running down your sides before they’re running up again, tugging your shirt along with them. You raise your arms obediently, allowing him to remove your shirt before seeking his mouth again while his hands occupy themselves with your chest.

“Dave…” you say quietly, barely audible as his fingers tweak one of your nipples. The word comes out as a gasp, a _prayer_. He sighs into your cheek before moving lower, mouth clamping to your neck and nipping the skin before he bites and oh, _oh god_.

“’M here, babe,” he says into the junction of your neck and shoulder, one hand sliding down to your stomach to draw little circles around your naval. Everywhere he touches is like fire, and all you can think is _yesyesgodyes!_ His hands both grip the top of your jeans, but before he can work on the clasp, you whimper into his ear, making him freeze and look up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Your shirt,” you pant. “I’m not…I’m not gonna be the only one naked, here.”

He smiles down at you, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Whatever you want, John.” He moves back, still straddling your waist, and slowly shuffles out of his red hoodie, and then the white shirt underneath. You watch greedily as his chest is revealed inch by inch, and it’s so white and pure that all you can think of is marking it, so you _do_ , leaning up to latch your mouth directly under his collarbone.

“Shit, _John_ ,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your head as you kiss lower, tongue lapping at his nipple while your hand massages the other. One of his hands splays across your chest to push you back down into the pillows, and then he’s looking down at you with a gaze that clearly says he’s going to eat you alive. Oddly, you’re perfectly fine with that.

He’s yanking your pants down firmly, eyes never leaving your face until you’re helping him by kicking your legs out, shimmying out of your jeans. He looks down at the front of your boxers and grins deviously, hand moving down to cup the growing bulge protruding obviously.

“Ahh! D-Dave-!”

“Yeah, feels good, don’t it? You really feel it here, huh?” he says, palming you harder and harder. You respond with a series of whimpers, because you’d be hard pressed to form a logical sentence right now. His fingers hook into the slim fabric, and then he’s pulling them down all the way, your aching erection finally free of all constrictions and you moan your appreciation, looking up at him lest you miss a single moment. He smiles at you, leaning down to your ear, his lips ghosting against it as he speaks.

“You look like you could come just from watching me,” he says, and yes, yes you agree with that, you say as best as you can. He seems to understand anyway, because his fingers move to undo his own jeans, and then he’s tugging them down along with his boxers and there’s no more barriers against the two of you. Dave moves his hands to your knees, slowly pushing your legs apart.

“Daaave,” you whimper because it’s the only word that seems to matter right now.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says in that accent and _god_ , you can’t- you can’t _think_ when he uses that sinful voice.

“Want you,” you manage and he moans low in your ear. “Want you so bad…”

“Where?” he asks, shamelessly licking your tongue and tugging it into his mouth. “I’ll give you anything you want, but you gotta tell me or I won’t know.”

There’s no way you could manage to articulate enough to convey that particular request, even if you _wanted_ to. Done with words, you arch up against him, his hips coming down to rut against yours. He curses, breathing out sharply before grinding against you again, and yes, this is what you want, you say feebly. You are perfectly fine with this development.

“Feel good, babe?” God, how is he still _talking?_ You nod frantically, too gone to speak, but you want him to keep talking, _need_ him to. His voice is just another erogenous zone, affecting your entire body.

“Dave, _Dave,_ oh gooood,” you whine.

“You need me?” he asks right in your ear, still rutting down into you at a pace that can only be described as animalistic. “Do you want me to give you more?”

“ _Yesyesyes, fuck,_ Daaaave.”

“Spread those legs and show me what you need,” he hisses, and _shit_ , you’re so close- you nod feebly, spreading them wider and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him tighter and tighter against you as you grind up into him.

“John, _fuckfuckfuck_ , I fucking love you so-“

“Godyesyesyes _yessssss_ -“

You seize against him, limbs clamping around him as tight as you can as your body begins to tremble violently. You cry out a mixture of his name and a sob, not even able to warn him of your climax but it’s fine, as he shortly joins you in going over the edge. He bites your neck as he comes, hissing a litany of curses and praises as his hips keep moving to ride against you. Your entire body feels boneless, and you can’t think of anything logical right now except for Dave all around you, kissing you, talking to you. Lifting up, you kiss him with as much emotion as you can muster to pour into his mouth, running your hands through his sweaty blond hair. He smiles against your lips, kissing you back just as fervently.

“I love you, too,” you say, pulling his forehead down against yours. “So much, Dave, so, so much-“

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he tells you. “People could write songs about how perfect you are, baby. Could make entire epic plays about it. Shakespeare wouldn’t know what to do except cry in shame from how amazing you are.”

“Jesus, Dave-“

“Want you just like this always,” he says, crimson eyes boring into your own. “Always with me.”

“I want that, too,” you tell him earnestly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you like Karkat lost Gamzee, I just…”

“Shhh,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again. “I’m not leaving you. Not ever. You’re so fucking stuck with me, John. It’s not even funny.”

The pillows are warm and soft, and you’re vaguely aware of Dave cleaning you off with what you assume to be the sheets of one of the beds. He settles against you, and you curl into his side, head on top of his chest as you begin to feel fuzzy all over from exhaustion.

“I wish we knew each other before,” Dave says quietly. “Before all the shit went down that apparently went down. I wish we could’ve met. I wish I could’ve saved you.”

“Mmm,” you agree.

“Wish you could’ve saved me, too.”

“We’re together now,” you mumble. “Tha’s enough…”

“Wish I could see what you see when you close your eyes.”

“I’ll tell you ‘bout it when I wake up,” you promise sleepily. “Tell you all of it…Dave…”

“I’ll be here.” You feel him kiss your forehead before you lose consciousness completely, and you cling to him harder in kind. “I’ll be right here.”

\--

_It’s raining outside. The steady downpour is as infuriating as it is calming. The dripping is trying its best to lull you to sleep, but you’re not looking forward to losing unconsciousness. Your dreams make no sense. So you do your best to fight it. You’re going to stay awake as long as your body will let you._

_It’s unhealthy, Rose often tells you. You should sleep more. You should get out more. You should branch out. Meet people. Get a girlfriend. Oh, you don’t like girls? Get a boyfriend. You’re not really ever certain if the nagging voice in your head is yours, Rose’s, or someone else’s entirely. You surprisingly know very little about yourself for someone who spends so much time alone._

_Sighing, you roll over. Your room is lit by a tiny nightlight in the socket of the far wall, adjacent from your bed and wall of posters. You’re not afraid of the dark or anything. You just like being able to see what’s around you at all times. Or maybe you are afraid of the dark. Isn’t fear of the dark caused by the unknown? At least, you think that’s right. But in your case, you’d say every fear you’ve ever had is because you know **too** much. _

_At least the voices are quiet tonight. Maybe they found something better to do than talk to you, not that you’re complaining much. Every now and then, it’s alright to be left in silence. Well, aside from the rain outside. Absentmindedly, your hand reaches up to your pillow, under it, fingering the book hidden there. It always makes you feel so at ease to know it’s there. You don’t know why. You wish you knew why._

_The book- it just- it represents something. Those voices aren’t strangers. They are, but they’re not. You’ve never met them. Or, you haven’t met them **yet**. They’re people you know you’re supposed to meet. Perhaps you’ve seen some of them. On the street. Under the stone roof of the building you work in. In passing, but never for too long. You **know** them. They are…friends? Semantics, you decide, are not important. What is important is that they aren’t strangers. They are just people you have not yet met._

_Jesus fucking Christ, you’re insane._

_“Fuck the past, it’s already happened. It’s the future I’m scared of,” one of the voices says. You grin to yourself. This voice always cracks you up. You reach over to the lamp and click it on, deciding to write it down in the book before you fall asleep._

_“I wish we knew each other before,” another voice says in your head. This one is your favorite. The voice is deep, but surprisingly monotone for all the emotion it tries so hard not to show. It’s accented with a slight twang that you assume is southern. You’ve only met one southerner, but you’re not as close to him as your cousin Jake is, and the voice is different. You smile as you reach under your pillow, listening to this voice you’ve grown to love. “Before all the shit went down that apparently went down. I wish we could’ve met. I wish I could’ve saved you.”_

_You don’t know how you know, but you know he’s talking to you._


	9. The Pesterlog and The Long Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to tumblr user madokii for some killer cute fanart! Click [here.](http://madokii.tumblr.com/post/63255994096/didnt-you-wonder-why-our-carpet-was-so-red-to%20)
> 
> Disclaimer: I got 99 problems, and I don't own these characters.

_You’re on the couch again. Rose is across from you and skimming through your latest journal entries. She’s flipping the pages, eyes wide and roaming over the words before the book closes, and she looks up at you._

_“How have you been doing, John?” she asks._

_“Better,” you say quietly._

_“Your father told me your cousin has moved in with you permanently.”_

_“Yeah, he’s going to law school,” you say. “Dad wanted him to go to the same one he graduated from.”_

_“And how do you feel about that?” she asks._

_“I don’t know.”_

_She writes that down on her little notepad, and then leans forward to hand your book back to you. She watches as you wrap around it again, hugging it against your chest. You hear her sigh quietly._

_“John, you and I both know this isn’t going to work unless you’re honest with me,” she says. “Now tell me how you feel about your father pushing Jake into law school.”_

_“It’s stupid,” you spit out before she can even finish her sentence. “I’m such a disappointment he has to solicit my cousin to replace me or some shit. Just because I didn’t want to be a stupid lawyer like him doesn’t mean he can just pick out another son. And Jake- he doesn’t even want to be a lawyer either! It’s like no one in our family cares about each other!”_

_“Has Jake told you he didn’t wish to go to law school?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Is his father as strict as yours?”_

_“Worse, if you can believe it. I only ever stayed with them once when they went back to Jake’s mom’s hometown in England, and my uncle spent the whole time yelling at him for being a screw up.”_

_“I see. Does Jake mention how his home life used to be? Did his father hit him?” Rose asks._

_“I…I’m not comfortable divulging information that isn’t mine to give,” you mutter, and to your surprise, she smiles at you._

_“That’s perfectly alright. I myself have two brothers, and we’re very close. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you’re betraying your family member’s trust.”_

_“Oh, um…good.” You fumble with the book in your lap, still very aware her eyes are on you._

_“As a matter of fact,” she continues, “I’m absolutely positive you’d get along with my younger brother famously. He and our older brother just moved up here from Texas, and I know he could use a friend as much as you could.”_

_“That…might be good. You were right about my other friend, so I should be open to your ideas,” you smile shyly, and she returns it._

_“I’ll see if I can arrange a meeting,” she says._

\--

You open your eyes to find your head folded on your arms, resting on a table. You groan, stretching your arms above your head to relieve stiffness before trying to see where you are.

“Nice nap, babe?” Dave’s voice asks, and you look over to see him very absorbed in a card game with Sollux and Karkat. You groan again, still not really awake, and prop your head on your hand. 

“Mmm,” you reply, taking your glasses from the collar of your shirt and slipping them back on your face. “Still sleepy.”

“Yeah, well, join the fucking club,” Karkat says, placing a card on the discard pile. “At least you get to sleep.”

“Don’t be bitchy, Karkitty,” Dave says, placing his own card down. “John’s gotta deal with all that psychic dream shit, so it’s not all rainbows and glitter. By the way, I’m changing it to clubs.”

Both Sollux and Karkat groan, eyeing their cards distastefully while Dave smirks victoriously. You smile, happy to see Karkat is cheered up a little. It was silently decided between you, Dave, and Sollux that Karkat shouldn’t be left alone to dwell on Gamzee’s passing. Tavros was part of the agreement, but…

Tavros passed on soon after Gamzee did. 

Slowly, the numbers of people on the sixth floor are dwindling. You think the order is significant, somehow. The lounge area seems quieter than you’re used to, since Karkat was usually always shouting at both Dave and Gamzee. Now he only has Dave to yell at, and it doesn’t seem to make him as happy as it used to. You can’t blame him. 

You look over to Terezi, who’s not drawing on the wall, for a change. She’s simply staring at it, almost unseeing, and a lump forms in your throat. Sighing, you turn back to the card game, and you frown at what you see.

“What the hell are you guys playing?” you ask, not understanding anything going on in front of you. 

“Shh, John, I’m dominating. No questions now,” Dave shushes, placing a series of cards down. Sollux kicks him under the table.

“Hey, assface, other people are playing the game, too!” 

“It’s not my fault y’all suck,” Dave says, his free hand lifting to pet the back of your neck. You shiver and scoot your chair closer to his, happy when he lets you lean into him.

“Alright, this fucking game is ridiculous,” Karkat hisses, glowering up at all of you. “We’re changing suits with Jacks, and some cards get to be followed by other cards, and some cards make you draw cards? It’s like the goddamn regular card version of Uno, but dumber.”

“That’s the point, yo,” Dave says. “You’re just pissed because you’re losing.”

“I’m pissed because it’s stupid!”

“KK, for the love of sweet troll Jesus, just play a fucking club,” Sollux sighs. 

Your eyes wander back over to the wall, but Terezi is gone. Subconsciously, you rest your body more into Dave’s, and you can make out his eyes on you through the darkness of his shades.

“John?”  
“Sorry,” you whisper, “just need a hug.”

“Well shit, man. If you want a hug you don’t have to be all sneaky ninja about it. Like, I’ll give you a hug so bodacious it’ll make your body feel like jelly, long as you fancy it.”

“…God, Dave, just shut up and hug me.”

He does, but he gives you an over exaggerated eyebrow raise before his lanky arms wrap around you, one of his hands still holding his cards. You hug him closely, greedily nuzzling into his warmth, not ever wanting to let him go. He holds you back just as tightly, his face in your hair. You hear him breathe you in deeply, and you sigh in contentment. No matter how tightly he holds you, it’s not close enough. You have a feeling it was never quite close enough…

“Sure you’re alright?” he asks you, and you lean back to look at his face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, quickly wiping away tears you didn’t even know were there before he can see them. “I think it’s your turn to discard, Dave.” 

Their attention goes back to the card game. Terezi doesn’t return.

\--

_“John, old boy, I daresay I’m…rather horrified by this entire charade.”_

_You look up to see your cousin in your doorway, wearing a stuffy suit and looking scared out of his mind. His green eyes are focused on you, but they’re so wide it’s almost like he’s looking through you. He scrambles to your bed to sit beside you, reaching for your hands._

_“I don’t think I can do this,” he says quietly, eyes shifting to the door to make sure no one heard him. “I can’t be a lawyer. I can’t please our fathers, John, I just…I can’t.”_

_“Then don’t,” you say, putting your hand over his. “Let’s just leave, Jake. You don’t owe them anything. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.”_

_“I wish we could. I really, truly wish we could. I’d escape with you in two shakes, dove. It would be a grand old adventure, wouldn’t it?”_

_“Then let’s do it,” you whisper. “We’re the only true family we’ve got. We can do it, Jake, I know we can! I can’t stand it here either!”_

_“John,” he whimpers, his forehead leaning into yours. “It’s too late for all of that, now. I fear I may have gotten myself into a jam I can’t get out of this time…”_

_“You shouldn’t have to be what other people want you to be! Do what makes you happy! It’s not…it’s not fair that my dad is forcing you into this just because I’m not good enough to live up to his expectations…”_

_“Stop that this instant. You’re absolutely perfect the way you are, and I shan’t listen to your self-loathing anymore on the subject,” Jake says. “Both of our fathers are very sick men. I fear it runs in the family.”_

_“Speak for yourself,” you say, nudging him. He smiles at you_  
.  
 _“I am speaking for myself, love,” he quips. “Sorry I went a little off the handle there. I’m just- I’m not one for suits and such. I…”_

_“You’re scared, Jake, and it’s alright,” you say to him. “I’m scared, too.”_

_He leans in, catching your lips in a quick kiss before pulling back, and standing up from the bed._

_“Thank you, John. You certainly lifted my spirits! I’m off to play in civilization for a bit, I suppose.”_

_“Be careful,” you call after him. “There have been a lot of murders in the area recently.”_

_“Not to worry. I’m far more frightening than anything waiting on the streets,” he shoots you his double pistols and a wink move, and then he’s gone._

\--

You lift your head from your warm pillow, and look up to see you’re in Dave’s bed, cuddled against said blonde’s chest. He traces patterns down your shoulders, smiling when he sees you’re awake.

“These little naps are getting kinda frequent, huh?” he says. 

“Sorry,” you yawn, trying to wake up all the way. “You’re just really warm and comfy.”

“You only hang out with me for my body.”

“True. It’s not my fault you’re sexy, though.”

“It’s because I have the physique of Adonis,” Dave says, and you snort.

“If he was impossibly stretched out, maybe.”

“There goes that sass again. Gonna have to rename you ‘Ballbuster’, ‘cause that’s what you do. Get all cuddled and sweet towards the unsuspecting hero, and then turn into a sass-hole.”

“Uggghhh,” you groan, pushing against his chest lightly. “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“I’m the only other source for intelligent conversation on this floor. Talking to myself keeps me witty.”

“You’re a loser, is what you are.”

“Fuck you too, babe.”

You laugh, sitting up in the bed and rubbing your eyes. Dave hands you your glasses, and you slip them on before turning to him fully.

“Did I miss anything?” 

“I’ve been here with you, so I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I don’t think there’s much to miss with the population falling like it has been.”

Vriska disappeared sometime after Terezi did, not that anyone really cared, aside from Nepeta. After she was gone, Karkat informed you of Sollux’s passing. They were walking in the hallway together, he said, and Sollux got a weird look on his face and just…passed on the same as Gamzee. After it happened, Karkat got really quiet and aloof. You wondered if he was next to pass on, until Nepeta and Equius beat him to the punch. One thing you and Dave both found comforting was how the two of them passed on _together._ It’s given you an idea of the order.

You think everyone is passing on in the order they died in. 

Dave sits up, tilting his head to kiss you. You pull him closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss as his hands tangle through your hair. He breaks away from you, smirking down at you and licking his lips. 

“Never gonna get tired of this,” he says quietly, wrapping around you and stealing kiss after kiss. “I never did finish writing that song about how perfect you are.”

“I’d rather you never finish it,” you laugh. “I’ve heard some of those raps of yours. I don’t think I’d want one based off me.”

“My beats are so ill they’re almost unreal.”

“No. No, just stop.”

“Hey,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, “you’ve been sleeping a lot. Do you…remember anything?”

“Jake’s my cousin. He lived with me. My therapist was too nice to me and wanted me to make friends.”

“Huh. And that’s it?”

“Far as I know. I still forget bits and pieces.”

He stares at you, not saying anything, but clearly wanting to. Dave has a bad habit of running his hands over the back of his neck a lot when he’s nervous, and messing up his hair when he runs them back up. You watch him do it a few times, before finally grabbing his hands in yours and looking closely in his eyes.

“Everything is fine, Dave. You can stop worrying.”

“You always say that.”

“What are you so scared of?”

“Same thing as always,” he says, “but different this time.”

“How’s it different?”

“If we’re leaving in order, won’t that make me leave before you?”

“It might end up that way, or it might not. It depends on how far apart we died.”

“Yeah… I think Dirk got here around the same time as me. And then Jake, and then you. Do you think we all might have died pretty close together?”

“It’s possible. Time doesn’t matter here, so who knows? Tavros passed on almost immediately after Gamzee, and I don’t think they even knew each other in their lives before. Really, once Aradia passed on, it kinda released the floodgates, and people started remembering more. And in my dream, I remember something about a killer.”

“Are you saying…”

“I think we were all killed by the same person. That’s our common factor on this floor.”

“So then…we were all murdered.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then runs his hands through his hair again.

 _“Shit,”_ he hisses.

“That about sums it up, yeah.”

\--

_“John, do you mind my asking who you’re talking to so religiously over there?” Rose asks from across the room. You look up at her from your phone._

_“Sorry. My friend is messaging me a lot today,” you reply, putting your phone back in your pocket._

_“Ah. The friend I introduced you to?”_

_“Yeah, he’s kinda my only friend besides my cousin.”_

_“I see,” she smiles. “I’m glad the two of you get along so well.”_

_“He’s really funny!” you say. “He raps at me a lot, though. How did you say you knew him again?”_

_“He’s just one of my…favorite patients,” she informs you. “I’ve been helping him inadvertently for years.”_

_“He doesn’t speak very highly of you,” you grin._

_“Semantics,” she sighs._

_“You just wanted me to have real friends to talk to,” you grin accusingly at her. She scoffs._

_“You wanted that, too. I’ve been seeing you over a year now, John. I do believe I’m rather good at reading you at this point. What better way to help two lonely people than introducing them?”_

_Your phone buzzes again, and you look at the screen quickly, smiling at the messages._

TG: this sucks so many dicks you dont even fucking know

TG: bro is making me sit next to a fuckton of puppets and theyre all looking at me with their soulless eyes

_“May I ask what he’s messaging you about so frequently?” Rose asks._

_“He’s going somewhere with his brother,” you say. “I don’t know where, though.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Speaking of brothers,” you say, “when did you want me to meet yours? I’m kinda into the idea of making more friends!”_

_“I’ll speak to him about it eventually,” she smiles. “These things have to take their time, you see. Unveiling such a grandiose first meeting takes careful planning, lest it be underappreciated.”_

_“I…have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

_“You will in time. So tell me, how is your cousin faring in school?”_

_At the mention of Jake, your shoulders tense, and she picks up on it._

_“John?”_

_“He’s…not doing very well at all.”_

\--

A door slamming open wakes you up this time, and Dave looks at you apologetically. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to close it so hard.”

“’S alright,” you mumble. “Everything okay?”

“Karkat’s gone.”

You sit up in alarm, trying to take in his expression behind his shades. “What happened?”

“Same as everyone else,” Dave says. “We were talking, everything was fine, and then he just- gone. Just fucking gone.”

“Dave…”

“It’s not fucking fair,” he hisses. “It’s not fair for us to sit here getting to know each other and shit, and we just have to keep saying goodbye over and over again!” He kicks aimlessly, accidentally hitting the wall. “Why did I have to make friends with these people?” He mumbles with his face in his hands. “Why’d I fall in love?”

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t really say anything. You pick at the folds in the covers inside the fort, waiting for him to speak again. He doesn’t. He’s wandering around the room aimlessly, bumping into things. Finally, you look up at him to see him holding the bridge of his nose, his sunglasses pushed onto his head as he breathes deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dave,” you whisper. He looks at you, eyes wide.

“Hey, no, no, no. Don’t look like that,” he says, flopping down beside you. “I don’t mean anything bad about- shit, John, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like it either,” you say. “Saying goodbye. I can’t…Dave, I…”

“Shhh,” he says, hugging you tightly. “It’ll be okay.”

“Did Karkat seem happy?” 

“Yeah. He seemed pretty happy.”

“Maybe he’s with Gamzee again.”

“Yeah.”

\--

TG: hey john

TG: joooohhhnnnnn

TG: egbert

TG: earth to egbert

TG: is there intelligent life out there

TG: ground control to major john

EB: dave.

TG: commencing countdown engines

EB: dave!

TG: ON

TG: shit there you are

TG: kept me waiting long enough

EB: sorry i’m doing homework.

TG: youre not in school

EB: it’s my cousin’s. he’s not doing so well.

TG: then shouldnt he do his own work 

EB: yeah, but…

EB: he’s not home.

TG: where is he

EB: no clue. i never know where jake sneaks off to.

TG: its kinda funny

TG: my bro just started messing around with a dude named jake

TG: small world

EB: common name!

TG: that too

EB: hey dave?

TG: yeah

EB: do you believe in fate?

TG: fate

EB: yeah. things happening for a reason.

TG: i

TG: guess so yeah

TG: weirder things have happened i guess

TG: like the universe aligns just right every couple of years

TG: and the moon hits a building in just the right way to shine benevolent light inside

TG: and some man inside is blessed enough to put a dollar in the vending machine and get two candy bars when he only paid for one

EB: bluh, dave! i’m serious!

TG: well if youre talking about meeting certain people being fate

TG: then yeah i think thats a thing

EB: you do?

TG: excuse me while i get sentimental and gross here for a sec

TG: but i wish we could meet in person john

EB: me too. and that’s not gross.

TG: youre my best friend

EB: you’re my ONLY friend.

TG: well shit man

TG: arent we a gross awkward pair

EB: yeah we are. how are things where you moved to?

TG: lonely

TG: bro is never here not like he ever was much before

TG: but now hes always off with some dude i havent even met

TG: well

TG: no thats not fair he works a lot too

TG: but when hes off i still dont see him

EB: i’m sorry, dave. i don’t see my cousin much anymore either. rose actually wants to introduce me to her brother tomorrow.

TG: you dont say

TG: well im sure hell be a real stand up dude

TG: as stand up as stand up can be with a sister like rose i mean

EB: hahaha! i still think it’s funny you’re the patient she’s worked with the longest.

TG: she would say that

TG: anyway yeah i guess ill let you go then so you can be chipper and bright eyed for your man candy tomorrow

EB: daaaave! jeeze it’s not like that!

TG: it will be though

TG: if the brother has anything to say about it i mean

EB: dave?

TG: maybe those stars youre always on about have something in store for us yknow

EB: i hope so.

TG: anyway

TG: goodnight john

EB: goodnight, dave.

\--

You wake up gasping for air, unsure why. Your dreams all meld together lately, and they just get more and more frequent. You think…you’re close to remembering everything, but you don’t want to alarm Dave, so you keep it to yourself as best as you can. He’s looking at you in alarm, huddled beside you in the fort.

“Bad…dream…” you manage, and he nods, rubbing your back. 

“Any memories?” he asks.

“Not yet, but as soon as my mind stops running a mile a minute, I might remember something about it,” you say, still breathing deeply. “Was I out long?”

“Nah. You’re never asleep too long,” he looks at you for a moment. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk or something. You need to move around a bit.”

You agree, and let him help you to your feet. He holds his hand out, and you grasp it gratefully, offering him a small smile while you wind down. Going out into the hallway always seems a little eerie now that the occupants are all gone. Dirk and Jake are still there, but just like before, they don’t interact with the two of you much. Dave told you before they always wander off to be complete dorks and just don’t want anyone to know. You can relate, since spending time with Dave is probably the highlight of your afterlife, but…you still miss everyone else, too. And you miss Jake as well.

As you walk, you swing your hands together, and Dave calls you a colossal dork. You grin up at him, continuing to swing your joint appendages happily, trying to think of your dream. 

“It’s kinda creepy, wandering the hallway alone,” you say, and Dave nods.

“Kinda. I don’t guess it’s haunted, though. I mean, we’re the ghosts.”

“How sweet would it be to be ghosts? I’d haunt the fuck out of somebody.”

“You’d be like the poltergeist with the cute face and sweet ass. They’d make movies about you.”

You laugh , nudging his shoulder with yours, trying to stand on your toes to reach his lips, but then you freeze when you see the look on his face.

“Dave?” you ask, following his gaze down the hall to see what he’s looking at. Just a little ways ahead of you stand Dirk and Jake, side by side.

“Jake!” you call, tugging Dave forward to see your cousin. Jake jumps, turning abruptly to look at you. A sad smile crosses his face.

“John,” he says, moving forward to catch your hands in his. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Where have you guys been?” you ask, looking from him to Dirk. “I know you always kinda roamed around, but I’ve seen you even less lately!”

“We’ve been remembering things…” Jake says quietly. “And…I’m afraid we…”

“Bro?” Dave asks, looking at Dirk, and the two exchange a brief glance that seems to tell each other everything, but you need a little more than that. You look back at Jake.

“You’re…leaving?”

Jake looks at you for a moment, sadness in his eyes you can’t even begin to fathom, and then he nods, opening his arms and crushing you into his chest. He holds you there against him, lips kissing your cheek in one fleeting motion, and then he’s lifting up to whisper in your ear.

“I’m so, so sorry, love,” he says. “I never…you have to understand, I wasn’t…wasn’t _well._ ”

“Jake? You don’t have to apologize for leaving. I- I’ll miss you, but it’s…your time, right?”

His limbs tighten around you, and then he’s pulling away, tears streaming down his cheeks. You try to wipe them away, but then he grabs your hands again, stopping you.

“John, I- I’m so sorry. For killing you, I mean.”

And then the world falls out from under you, everything spins around until it halts, and you fall into darkness, Dave’s voice echoing in your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs maniacally*


	10. The Whole Story, The Ending, and The Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end, you guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's getting hot in here, and I don't own these characters.
> 
> Fanart [here](http://glitterpaintnightmares.tumblr.com/post/63758812008/so-i-made-fanart-for-this-fanfiction-it-says)
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://moniofthebroom.tumblr.com/post/64317283938)
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://judasdasghey.tumblr.com/post/64679260830/shitty-fanart-yay)
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://bedazzledstrider.tumblr.com/post/65000290359/i-did-the-fanart-thing-for-a-purgatory-story-i)
> 
>  
> 
> [and here.](http://judasdasghey.tumblr.com/post/65136814763/my-handwriting-is-sloppy-and-idgaf)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

Your name was John Egbert, and you kind of always wanted to die.

Of course, you didn’t know that’s what it was when you were younger. All you knew was that you wanted to disappear, and even then, you wondered seriously whether or not anyone would miss you.

You lived in a large house in a high-class suburb in Maple Valley, Washington. Every house was practically the same, cut from some cookie cutter mold that wealthy adults seemed to swarm to. You didn’t understand why you lived in a house that was so similar to every other house around you, but you knew better than to ask too many questions.  


You lived alone with your father in the large house, but you didn’t really see him much. He was a high powered prosecuting lawyer, and he was singlehandedly responsible for at least a quarter of the prison population in the county. You respected your dad more than anything as a child, and wanted nothing more than to make him proud of you. But you always kind of knew he hated you for some reason.

Your mother died very early in your life, so you didn’t remember anything about her. You’d tried asking your father before, but he never really talked about it. Since you didn’t have any siblings, you made up your own games, and learned to entertain yourself. Your father hired some men to build you a swing set outside when you were four, and it became your own private spot, the only difference between your house and the vast amount of identical houses surrounding you. Even then, you felt like there had to be more to life than just what you were accustomed to, but since there wasn’t much you could do about it, you learned to pretend you were somewhere else. It was a habit you carried your entire life.

You were used to being alone for the most part, aside from the occasional presence of the nanny your father hired, so needless to say you were caught off guard when your dad himself journeyed into your room one night to tell you to prepare for company. You sat up as straight as you could to show him your posture could be just as proper as his, but you didn’t really think he noticed. He regarded you stiffly, and then told you his brother was coming to visit with his family, and you needed to be on your best behavior. You promised you would, and you hoped with all your might that he would maybe smile at you for once, maybe tell you he was proud of you for being a good boy, but he didn’t. He left the room without another word, and again you wondered if he even loved you. You tried your hardest not to cry, but you failed.

Your uncle and aunt visited the next day, and you were told they were staying the night. You had to share your room with your cousins, but you didn’t mind. It was actually pretty exciting, you thought. The house was full for once, and you’d never really had anyone to play with. Plus these were people you were related to! You were so excited to meet both of your cousins, and you hoped they would like you. For some reason, you thought you were pretty easy to hate, since everyone seemed to treat you unkindly, but you still had hope that since they’d never met you before, they wouldn’t have a reason to hate you just yet.

You met Jade first. She was a nice girl with wild black hair, sparkling green eyes, and an accent you’d never heard before. She was really excited to meet you, she said, and she knew for a fact her brother was, too. He was older than the two of you, and was staying close to their father, but he would be able to play soon. You caught a glimpse of him walking alongside the adults with a stiff looking expression on his face, and you were immediately scared of him. Jade told you his name was Jake, and he really wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t sure you believed her. 

While the adults talked about whatever they were talking about, you and Jade made use of your swing set outside. It was your favorite place to play, and you were so excited to have someone to share it with. You were showing her all the ways to swing really, _really_ high when Jake finally joined the two of you. He took one look at you, and raised an eyebrow, and you waited for him to say something cross, but he never did. Instead, he smiled and ran forward to catch you in an easy hug, and told you really quietly he’d been looking forward to meeting you for a long time, because Jade was fun and all, but she was a girl. He spoke with the same weird accent, dodging when Jade threw a pinecone at him, and then the three of you spent the rest of the afternoon playing adventure games. Jake was head explorer because he was older, but you didn’t mind at all. You were just happy to finally have someone to play with.

At dinner, Jake sat beside his father. You noticed how similar his father looked to your own, and you remembered hearing uncles were actually just brothers to parents or something like that. The entire thing was confusing to you, but you understood you were all family. You didn’t even know what cousins were, really. Maybe it was another word for sibling. Your heart leapt at the thought. You’d always wanted a brother and sister! You leaned over to tell Jade so, and she giggled in reply before telling you that brothers were stupid, and Jake was proof. You tried to catch Jake’s eye from across the table, but he was simply staring down at his food with the same stiff look on his face. You decided then and there that you didn’t care for your uncle much, since he put that look on your cousin’s face.

That night, Jake and Jade helped you build a blanket fort. You father didn’t seem to care, and your uncle merely said it couldn’t be helped for you and Jade to act like kids, but Jake should know better. Jake got the same stony look on his face before your aunt came in the room and kissed him on the forehead, telling him to enjoy himself for once before turning a kiss to Jade. You stood awkwardly beside the fort while she spoke to them, and then she turned to you and kissed you on the forehead, too. You stared blankly at her, and she smiled back at you and said you had your mother’s kind eyes, but the color was the same as your father’s. Then she left the room. You asked Jake and Jade what it was like to have a mother, and they both sort of shrugged. 

Jade fell asleep first, cuddled against your back. You and Jake stayed awake for a while, telling whispered stories in the dark. He told you about his adventures, and you didn’t really believe all of them, but at the same time, they sounded so _cool_. You asked him if he was scared of his father, and he frowned for a second before nodding.  
“He’s a rather intimidating fellow, I admit,” Jake said quietly, scooting closer to you. “I really don’t think he likes me much.”

“My daddy hates me, too,” you replied, and Jake hugged you close, telling you it would be okay, and the two of you would have each other from then on, and you’d both protect Jade since she was just a girl.

They left the next morning for a place called ‘London’, and they both promised to write you letters. You were upset about the fact that you wouldn’t even be able to _read_ them, but then your father reminded you that you would be starting school very soon, and you brightened at the idea of keeping in touch. Jake needed you, because you promised to stay together, and you weren’t going to forget that.

When you started kindergarten, you were really nervous. The other kids didn’t act the same way you did. They were all over the room, running around and screaming, but you just sat in your chair and waited to be spoken to. Your teacher asked if you were alright, and wanted to know why you weren’t playing. You told her you’d get in trouble if you acted that way, and she gave you a look you didn’t quite understand, but you thought it looked kind of sad. 

Your school days were mostly like that. You eventually understood that it was _okay_ to run around and play with the other kids, but at that point they all knew you as “the quiet kid”, and no one ever asked you to play. During recess, you’d either play alone, or ask if you could use the crayons to draw. You couldn’t read or write yet, but you could at least send Jade and Jake pictures. 

Jade always sent you drawings of pretty things like flowers and cool suns wearing shades. You’d send her things like green dogs, because you knew she liked green, and dogs were her favorite animal. Jake sent you actual letters, but you were too scared to ask your father to read them to you. Sometimes the nanny would, but she wasn’t exactly nice either, so you would mostly take them to your teacher. She would help you write responses sometimes, too. One day, she asked you why your parents never helped you read the letters. You told her your dad was really busy, and your mom was dead. She told you she was sorry, but you didn’t understand why.

When school ended again, Jade and Jake came back to visit with their parents, and you were ecstatic to see them both. Like last time, you and Jade spent the entire time playing, and Jake joined you after a bit. They were both saddened to hear you hadn’t made any friends, and Jade said she’d beat up anyone who was mean to you, but you told her that wasn’t necessary. No one noticed you enough to be mean to you. Actually, you thought it might be nice to be noticed for a bit, even if it was just to be picked on. Sometimes it was almost like you didn’t really exist. 

When first grade started, you finally began to learn to read. Jake’s letters started making more sense, and you slowly began to trust yourself enough to respond back on your own, even if your writing was subpar at best. Jade’s lettering was just as horrible as yours. Neither of you could compare to Jake’s writing, and Jade told you he was a butthead in one of her letters, but you knew she was just jealous. 

Still, none of the kids talked to you, and you spent most of your time alone. Your father came in your room one night to find you writing a letter, and he told you the school called him to talk about how antisocial you were, and how your teacher was concerned. You were scared you were in trouble until he sat on the edge of your bed and told you everything was fine.

“I told them you’re just not meant to be in the spotlight, John,” you father said. “You’re really more of a background player, after all. I always knew that, I suppose. Remember, son. No attention is good attention.”

You weren’t sure what exactly a “background player” was, but you assumed it was what you were. The other kids didn’t seem to mind being the center of attention. In fact, most of them seemed to enjoy it. You personally dreaded being called on to answer a question. You always knew the answer, but sometimes the other kids would laugh at you for that and call you a know-it-all. Eventually, you just wanted to stop talking. Again, you kind of wished you could disappear.

Elementary school continued that way, and every year that passed, you only felt more alone. Jade and Jake hadn’t visited in an awfully long time, not since that summer before first grade, and the letters slowed down. Eventually, you learned what it meant to be “picked on”, as Jade had put it that one time. During fourth grade, the other kids began to pick on you because you were so quiet. Or at least, that’s how it started. After the initial bullying for your shyness, it morphed into bullying for the way you looked, too. You were too skinny, and your teeth were too big. You were also too smart, and no one liked smart people, they would say. You wondered whether or not you should say something, but eventually decided against it. Everyone had better things to worry about.

As you grew older, you finally began understanding certain things. The reason your house was the same as everyone else’s in the neighborhood was because blending in was a good thing. Standing out caused trouble. It was inviting others to ridicule, and find flaws in the way things looked. You understood why your father said you were meant for backgrounds. After all, he pretty much knew everything. There wasn’t anything amazing about you. You wished other people would realize that, and stop picking on you, but you had every reason to assume they would grow bored of you eventually. After all, you weren’t that interesting.

Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Each grade that passed, the bullying seemed to grow worse. Middle school was absolutely horrible for you, as everyone was starting to slowly figure out who they were, and also figuring out what a freak you really were. In the first days of junior high, you learned a lucky few were even going through _puberty_. Not you, though. You were still the same, you thought. And unfortunately for you, not changing with everyone else made you even more of a target.

By your entry to high school, ninth grade year, your school life was full of hostility, and the bullying turned physical. You were the prime target for most people to let out their frustrations, it seemed. It had been years since you’d heard from either of your cousins, and you really wished they would write you back. Jade was fifteen years old, same as you. Surely she could relate to how hard it was to fit in while going through bodily changes and dealing with outrageous hormones. Jake had already gone through it, since he was older. He would be eighteen, now, you remembered. You missed both of them terribly.

More than anything, you were just lonely.

One day during the summer before tenth grade, the phone rang. You answered it because you were the only one home, and to your surprise, a deep voice that you vaguely recognized filled your ears. It was your uncle, and he sounded upset. He said he would be visiting soon, and you were to inform your father. Before you could ask to speak to either Jade or Jake, he hung up.

You waited in excitement for two days for them to arrive. Your father was just as confused as you by the sudden intrusion. He even divulged to you that the last time he had spoken to his brother had been a little over a year ago. You’d wondered if the two had kept in touch, and to be honest, you were a little pleased to hear that it wasn’t just you being shut out.

Finally, the doorbell rang, and you raced to open the door to let them in- only to find the family you remembered so vividly was two members short. Your uncle rushed past you to your father and collapsed on his shoulder in uncontrolled sobs, and you stood there looking at the person you remembered from so long ago, only older and more stoic. Jake was in front of you for the first time in years, but his eyes were dead. You opened your mouth to ask where Jade and your aunt were, but before you could, you heard your uncle saying they were killed in a car accident just a few days ago. Your father looked more saddened than you’d ever seen him look, and your uncle was broken. Jake was stiff and unresponsive, and you didn’t know what to do, so you just didn’t do anything. 

They stayed with you for a while. Your uncle decided to have the funeral in your hometown, because he was so tired of London, he said. It was full of too many memories. So his wife’s family members were surrounding your small group at the church down the street, and everyone was crying. You saw a few pictures of Jade, and she looked beautiful. You wished you’d tried harder to find her and Jake before, but it was too late to think that way. You didn’t cry, because you’d long since given up on it. Jake didn’t cry either, but he held your hand, and you were happy to indulge him. 

After the funeral, Jake went straight to your room and flopped in your bed. Your father and uncle were out making arrangements for the ashes to be taken back to London, as your aunt’s family wanted them to stay there. You sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the covers over Jake’s body, not offering any comforts because you didn’t know _how_. Finally, he spoke to you. He asked you if he could hold you, just for a little while, and you fell against him under the sheets, sniffling a little when his warm breath went against your neck. It was your first time holding another person since you were six years old, and it was a little too overwhelming. 

You asked why they didn’t keep in touch with you anymore, and he told you they tried, but his father didn’t like them keeping in touch with _anyone_. They were homeschooled, he said. They’d never even had other kids to interact with, and they’d missed you as much as you missed them. His mother and father were having marriage problems, and Jade went with their mother to visit their grandmother. That’s when the wreck happened, and they dropped everything to come be with your father and you. He whimpered against your skin, and you held onto him tightly, still refusing to cry. You told him about the things you’d been through, hoping to take his mind off his own pain. He listened to every word you said, and then, when he pulled away, you thought you’d said something bad. But then he leaned forward and kissed you on the mouth, and everything seemed to freeze.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, but you didn’t dare pull away. The feelings overflowing in your chest were making you still as a statue, your heart racing so fast you were certain you were dying, and you didn’t know- _god_ , how were you supposed to react to this? He pulled away slowly, and your disconnected lips made a slight smacking noise, and then he looked at you with tears in his eyes, saying he was sorry. You didn’t know what else to do, so you simply kissed him again, and this time it turned into something more heated, something involving tongues and teeth and heavy breathing. When he held you that night, you both swore each other to secrecy. 

His father left soon after. He had business to attend to, and decided it was best for Jake to stay behind for a while. You were ecstatic, of course. All new revelations to your relationship aside, you were just basking in the feeling of having someone close to you. Your father went back to work as well, and then two of you were left alone to your own devices more often than not. Kisses soon evolved into touches, and those evolved into groping. Things would get heated, but they would stop before escalating to anything else, which you were grateful for. Jake was your _cousin_. It was _wrong_. But, god, it was so nice having someone who cared about you. 

One night, you led him out your bedroom window to the roof. It was a clear night for a change, since it was cloudy and rainy most of the time. Washington weather wasn’t for everyone. You usually didn’t mind the rain, but you were still happy to see the stars that particular night. Jake lay beside you, listening to you as you rambled on about a magic trick you’d seen online. You thought magicians were so cool, but you’d never had a friend to tell. Jake laughed as you described what you’d do if you were a magician, and how you’d use your skills to elude your bullies. He asked you then if you ever actually tried to protect yourself, but you changed the subject soon after. You didn’t think he’d react well if he heard you say that you didn’t think you were worth standing up for. 

In turn, he told you about his guns back at home. His father didn’t approve of many hobbies, and they didn’t get along very well, at least, not _really_ , but they shared an interest for guns. Jake had a few guns, but his favorites were his pair of pistols. He even had holsters for them, but he couldn’t start carrying them legally for a while. You liked how animated he got when he spoke of them. It reminded you of the old days, and how he would pretend his hands were guns as he chased you and Jade around outside. Your heart panged at the memory, and you reached for his hand before you could stop yourself. He froze in the middle of his explanation, and looked over at you with a distant expression on his face. You told him you wished he would just stay with you and your father, and not worry about going back to London. He sighed, and then rubbed his thumb over your fingers, telling you he’d like nothing more than that, but his father would never allow it. For the second time, you asked if he was afraid of his father. 

Jake stared into the stars for a bit, clearly in thought. You joined him in looking up at the void, and you wondered if you should say something to change the subject. You were about to, until he opened his mouth, startling you. He asked if your father ever touched you, and you froze.

“Touch how?” you asked quietly.

“In more than a fatherly way, I suppose,” he said, still not looking at you. You shook your head, and he bit his lip, finally looking over at you. “Mine’s been doing it for a while now.”

You told him to _tell_ someone, to _leave_. You told him to come live with you, to do whatever he had to in order to escape, but he seemed oddly passive about the entire thing, and you knew then that he thought of himself the same way you thought of yourself. He didn’t think he was worth saving, and you knew how horrible that felt. You leaned over and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him again until your chest screamed for oxygen, and he let you. You told him you loved him, and he cried.

At the end of the summer, Jake went back to live with his father, and you went into eleventh grade. School was as shitty as ever, but now you had the weight of Jade’s death and Jake’s turmoil on your shoulders. Your father was still always gone, and you found it much harder to be alone, since you’d gotten so accustomed to having someone near. You’d message Jake online sometimes when you were both free and able to talk. He’d gotten you into using an app called Pesterchum, and he was your only contact, but his client stayed grayed out more often than not.

The school year passed quickly and relatively uneventfully. The bullies still had it out for you, but you’d at least learned to avoid them like a pro. Sometimes they’d corner you, and you’d take your beating in stony silence. They’d call you a freak for not screaming, but they just didn’t understand. You’d call out to someone if you _could_. You didn’t have anyone to call for, and that knowledge only made you curl into yourself even more as they kicked you over and over again.

The summer before senior year, your father allowed you to go overseas and visit Jake. You were excited about the change of scenery, and at the idea of spending time with your cousin/only friend, but you were also wary of the fact that you’d be in the presence of your uncle. You were only staying for a week, but you at least hoped it would be pleasant. You couldn’t help but think you and Jake both deserved a break from pain, even if it was only for a week. 

You quickly learned Jake’s father was different from yours in a lot of ways, despite looking similar. Jake’s father was prone to screaming fits of rage and hostile lashes of violence. You were witness to him punching Jake in the face during one of said fits, and it was one of the most terrifying things you’d ever witnessed to see your cousin, the only person in the world you idolized, to be reduced to a crumpled mess on the floor. You snuck in his room that night and held him until he fell asleep. Neither of you cried that time, and luckily, his father didn’t lash out for the rest of the trip.

During senior year, something strange began happening to you. Your dreams began to grow vivid and lucid, seemingly real, but you could never remember them when you woke up. You’d recall endless hallways and friendly faces, and you’d always wake up in tears, but you never knew why. 

The more the school year dragged on, the stranger things got. Eventually, you’d hear voices all over the place. They were never very loud or even very prominent, and you’d sometimes wonder if it was just because you were so stressed with impending exams and looming college prep, but as far as you knew, none of your fellow students were losing their minds. After the sentences in your head became legible, you were actually startled enough to message Jake over Pesterchum and ask what he thought about it.

EB: and i feel like i know them somehow, but i know i don’t. is that weird?

EB: am i crazy, jake?

GT: Oh john…

GT: I fear we are all doomed to go a bit mad in this *godforsaken* family.

GT: But youre far from crazy love. Try to focus on studies and avoid the unknown voices and if they continue id let your father know.

EB: yeah i guess that’s all i can do. thanks, jake. is everything okay where you are?

GT: Far better now that ive spoken to you. *double pistols and a wink*

EB: oh my god.

You did what he said, and tried to ignore them the best you could, but eventually you couldn’t do that anymore. Still, you didn’t tell your father. He already thought you were a total waste, and the last thing he needed to know was that you were going insane, too. So you dealt with it. Sometimes the voices were more legible, and you could actually make sense of them, but you’d never remember what it was they were saying. Your thoughts were always racing, and your mind was hard pressed to focus. Unfortunately for you, it was senior year and close to exams, and focusing was the number one thing you were _supposed_ to be doing. Eventually, attention was drawn, and you were called to the counselor’s office to be informed you were failing, and they couldn’t understand why since you’d had a 4.0 at the beginning of the year. When you couldn’t provide them with an answer, they called your father.

Your father sent you to see a psychiatrist, and you immediately wished you’d just ignored all your troubles like Jake said. The psychiatrist’s name was Dr. Jack Noir, and he was a badger faced old man with an eye-patch over one eye and a permanent scowl on his features. Naturally, you didn’t divulge your problems to him, so he made up his own to label you with. You had emotional issues, he said, and you might even be suicidal due to your lack of concern for your well-being. You’d never really thought suicidal was the word for it, but then again, you weren’t a PhD, and you weren’t the one with the notepad. 

By the end of your senior year, all your fellow classmates were going off to college, and you were going off to your shrink’s office to be given more drugs. It was actually the only time in your life that you were pretty okay with everything that was happening, because you were so doped up. Nothing seemed to matter to you, and even if it did, you were too loopy to care. All you knew was the voices finally stopped, and every day seemed to blur together into one endless void. The next thing you were really aware of was your father coming into your room to tell you Noir had died of old age, and you would be seeing a new psychiatrist. 

The next time you went to the office, there was a woman sitting in Noir’s old chair. Her hair was short and blonde, held back by a hairband, and her eyes were an odd tinted lavender. She smiled pleasantly at you when you walked in, and you were put off by the gesture. No one ever smiled at you like that. Her name was Rose Lalonde, she said, and she was going to be taking over for Noir. She then looked at your chart, and you watched her eyes grow wider and wider.

“Good lord,” she said quietly. “How are you even functioning on all of these pills? Half of them contradict each other…”

It was a rhetorical question, but in your doped up mind, you formed the only response you could think of, “They put me on autopilot because they’re tired of dealing with me. Don’t worry, I’m used to it. This is my new normal.”

She looked at you with an odd pained expression, and you were reminded of your old kindergarten teacher from so long ago. That was the same look she gave you, and you now recognized it for what it was: pity. 

Under Rose’s authority, you came off the meds. The clouds lifted from your mind, and you discovered it’d actually been a few months since the last time you’d thought so clearly. It was a double edged sword, since the voices returned, full force. In all your panic, you remembered you hadn’t spoken to Jake in all that time, and you were immediately distraught. All the emotions at once after going so long without feeling any of them had you feeling overwhelmed, and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to cry.

You hadn’t actually done much talking in your sessions with Jack Noir, or at least, none that you could remember. Rose informed you that part of your therapy was to open up on your own time, and she didn’t want to rush you, so your sessions started out very slow. You mostly talked about ambitions, or lack thereof. After a while, you told her about Jake and Jade, and entertained her with the tales of your past adventures with the two, though they’d been brief. You had to tell her about Jade’s death, and she told you she was sorry. She looked as if she wanted to hug you, but you were extremely glad she didn’t. You weren’t sure you could handle something like that.

You were growing more comfortable with Rose, and you eventually divulged your past relationship with Jake. You told her about the kisses, and the escalated touches. She listened to you quietly, and the more she stared, the more you couldn’t stop yourself from babbling. All you could think of was how you had to tell her, you had to get this off your mind, _you had to get at least one burden off your chest_. By the end of it, you were in tears again, and you were so caught between being ashamed and pissed off for crying that it only made you cry harder and harder until you fell to your knees in the middle of the floor and just sobbed. You told her you were sorry for being disgusting, and she wordlessly stood from her chair, walked over to you, and wrapped her arms around you tightly.

“Two lonely boys can be forgiven for anything, John,” she said quietly, and you hugged her back, thinking to yourself that this must be what it felt like to have a mother. The thought only made the tears keep coming. 

The visits became friendlier after that, and the two of you talked openly about almost everything. You still weren’t telling her about the voices, because you were scared of being labeled insane and at risk of being locked away. You were more than certain that your father wouldn’t think twice about sending you away if he had the chance. You wondered a ridiculously high amount of time why he even kept you around when he obviously didn’t want you.

Rose discussed the future with you. She asked why you didn’t have a job and weren’t in school, and you told her it was because your job was school before you graduated. Then Jack Noir turned you into a drugged up zombie, and your father thought it best for you to not work. The two of you spent the rest of that particular session looking up available jobs online, and by the end of it, you had an interview. Rose then said she wanted you to look into taking college courses when the new semester started. You needed to get away from your father, she said. It was obvious you were unhappy, and for whatever reason, your father was sheltering you.

You got the job at the local coffee shop. It was easy work, and the hardest part of it was remembering what went in every particular drink. You were proud of yourself for making your own money, even if it was a meager amount. During your down time at work, you’d attempt to contact Jake, but he never messaged back. You wondered if he was upset about your lack of communication for those few months, but you feared it was a more sinister reason involving his father. You told Rose about the rift between you, and she asked if you were lonely without him.

“I ask because I have a proposal to make, John,” she said with her little smile. Another of her patients was a lot like you, she informed you, and she was having difficulties getting him to open up as much as she’d like.

“How does that involve me?” you asked with a confused frown. She then explained how sometimes an outside perspective was best, and he was stuck in some stupid delusion that if he hid who he was, he’d be safe from getting hurt. It was child’s play seeing past said façade, she told you with a huff, but he seemed hell bent on keeping his walls up. Again, you asked how that involved you, and she gave you a smug look.

“Because you’re exactly like that, minus the irony,” she said, and you let that sink in while she wrote something down on a slip of paper. When she handed it to you, you realized it was a chumhandle. She told you to just think about it, and talk to him if you ever had the time. You folded it and put it in your pocket, but you didn’t really have any intention to message the guy. That was just too weird, and you still weren’t sure what exactly the two of you had in common aside from having Rose as a therapist.

As time went on, you still didn’t hear from Jake, and the voices in your head grew louder again. They seemed to go through a period of brief silence, and you’d been enjoying that while at work, but then they started again, and the racing thoughts became full-fledged once more. You began making mistakes at work, and messing up orders. The thoughts made it hard to sleep, and trying to understand what the whispers were saying was keeping you awake even longer. 

One night, after a particularly horrid bout of dreaming, you woke up with a gasp, tears pouring down your face. You didn’t remember the dream, but you suddenly felt very alone, and when you looked around your room, it only confirmed how alone you really were. Without thinking, you reached for your phone, and you opened the Pesterchum app. You had two contacts now, but one was always grayed out, and the other was the new one you’d never messaged. Not yet, at least. With shaking hands and a longing to talk to someone, _anyone_ , you typed a message to the stranger.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:07--

EB: um this is really weird, i know…

EB: but i was told by rose lalonde to talk to you because we supposedly have a lot in common? i’m not really sure because she’s so secretive about things…

EB: oh wow this is coming across as really creepy and weird, isn’t it? i’m sorry.

EB: let’s, uh. start over. hi! i’m john egbert!

TG: sup

EB: …that’s all you have to say?

TG: well normally id be pretty hospitable and offer you a neck rub or some shit

TG: but its literally half past satans dick in the morning

EB: i’m so sorry! i didn’t think about that!

TG: s cool

TG: so like

TG: rose just gave you my chumhandle

EB: yeah she said you were her patient too and we had lots in common…

TG: manipulative shrew

EB: huh?

TG: sorry just lamenting about this drama that is my life

TG: so john egbert referred to me by a rose lalonde

TG: why the fuck are you awake right now

EB: i had a really bad dream, i think.

TG: bad dream huh

TG: well my name is dave strider and now that im awake because of your derp ass

TG: i say you tell me about said bad dream

So you did. Dave talked to you for a few hours, actually, and you learned he was actually a few hours ahead of you, since he lived in Texas. After your conversation about nothing, which literally was about nothing in particular, just the ramblings of both of you arguing over movie and music tastes, he told you he was gonna sleep all afternoon, so he’d talk to you later. You felt really good about the entire thing now, and Dave seemed really cool. _Too_ cool, actually. You had no idea why he was even talking to you, but you were glad he was.

Things calmed down for a bit after that. When things got overwhelming, you would talk to Dave. He never seemed too busy to listen to you, and you were both grateful and confused by the thought of having someone actually _care_. Jake’s client never lit up, and it still worried you, but Dave was pretty good at distractions. Rose was pleased by your interactions, and told you so the next session. She asked if you were sleeping better, and you told her no. You decided, after thinking about it for a while, that you felt comfortable enough with her to tell her your biggest secret, since she’d helped you so much. With a shaky voice, you told her about the voices you’d been plagued with for over a year.  


After you were finished explaining, she asked you what kind of things they would say, but you were never really sure. You’d forget soon after they started talking, you told her. She then suggested that you write them down. 

“Get a journal and keep it with you at all times,” she said. “That way, you can write it down as soon as it happens, and it might help ease your mind to not always obsess over what you’re missing. We can go over the entries later, if it makes you feel better.”

You began carrying a hard backed journal with you, and like Rose instructed, you began writing down what the voices said. Once you did, it was almost opening a floodgate. They began speaking more, and you’d write down every word of it. The strangest feeling of nostalgia washed over you every time you did. You _knew_ these voices. But you knew you didn’t. Most of all, you just knew you were crazy.

Dave talked to you more and more, until eventually you were almost in constant contact with him. You never indulged him with your own severe problems, but it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. If anything, the few months you’d been talking had been nothing but pleasant, and Dave Strider was steadily becoming the best friend you’d ever had. He never judged you, and though he would use snarky comments to insult you sometimes, you knew he never meant them to be taken offensively. He was an important piece of your life, and you didn’t want to scare him away by telling him how crazy you actually were. You’d already lost Jake more times than you cared to count, and you didn’t think you could handle losing Dave, too.

Then, one day, Jake came back. Your father informed you he would be staying with the two of you while Jake went to law school, and you were to help clear out the spare bedroom for him. You were ecstatic at the idea, very happy that he was getting away from his awful father. Still, you were puzzled. You’d never heard Jake say he wanted to be a lawyer before. 

When you saw him, he looked completely different. He was thinner, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The smile was gone from his face. You ran to him and hugged him as tight as you could, but his own arms remained stiffly at his side. 

A few days went by, and to your disdain, Jake didn’t speak to you about the new revelations. You were upset about the thought of people holding information from you, but then again, Jake’s business wasn’t your own. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You just had to wait. Besides, you had your own issues to deal with.

You told Rose to promise not to tell anyone about the things you wrote in your book, and she looked at you as if you were on fire. She then promptly informed you that there was such a thing as doctor patient confidentiality, but you still made her promise. She was very interested in your writings, but you were upset by them. You felt as if every voice in your head was talking personally to you, and acted as if they knew you. More importantly, you knew them too. Didn’t you? Rose asked you if you thought they might be visions from the future, but you dismissed the idea nigh instantaneously. You weren’t _psychic_. You were _psycho_. There was a big difference!

Finally, Jake wandered in your room one day before his classes officially began, but he didn’t talk about his fears. You listened to his babbling anyway, grateful he was talking to you again. You missed him. God, you missed him. He kissed you briefly before exiting the room, and it only reminded you how that particular part of your relationship was over now, and neither of you really seemed upset about it. _Two lonely boys can be forgiven for anything, John,_ Rose had said, and you thought idly to yourself that you _had_ forgiven yourself for a lot of things. You wondered if Jake had forgiven himself yet, but you guessed he probably hadn’t. 

One night, one of the voices in your head, a woman, told you there was a murderer near you. You dismissed it as a warning, but wrote it down anyway. Rose asked you later if maybe they were trying to warn you of something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to agree. Amazing things never happened to you. There was no way you were having premonitions. At least, you didn’t think you were. It wasn’t a gift, it was a curse. You were pretty adamant about that.

You were messaging Dave at work one day, and in your hurry to go home and send him a file from your computer, you accidentally left your journal behind. You didn’t notice for a while, but when you did, it was almost like a piece of you had been taken. You’d panicked, afraid someone would find it, and somehow trace it back to you. If your dad found out you were hearing _voices_ on top of everything else-

The doorbell rang, interrupting your thoughts. Your father wasn’t home, and Jake was upstairs. You went to the door, trying to hold it together, and were greeted by a beautiful woman with dark wavy hair and honey colored eyes. You both stared at each other for a moment, and then she reached out to you, offering your book.

“You left this,” she said simply, and when she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You took the book from her, and noticed the gashes along her wrist that her sleeves barely covered. Your heart panged for this stranger, but all you could do was thank her for returning your book.

“This journal is very personal to me, and just- fuck, thank you so much.”

“I saw you staring,” she said with another coy grin. “My scars, I mean.”

“It was rude, I’m sorry,” you said hurriedly. “Thank you again. I really mean it.”

She nodded, wished you a good night, and then was gone. You went to your room and hid your journal back under your pillow, and didn’t think about it again. At least not until the woman’s face appeared on the news. She’d been murdered. The very night she returned your book.

You paced the floor of Rose’s office, lamenting your insecurities and your paranoia. What if someone had it out for you and they killed the girl for being nice? Rose said you were being ridiculous, but it was curious that your delusions were warning of murder, and then it happened soon after. Again, she hinted that she believed you were having visions. You were fucking terrified, because you just knew this was the beginning of something horrible.

That night, you opened your book to the latest page you’d been using, and you froze at unfamiliar writing in dark red ink. 

“I think we’re supposed to talk, you and I. I don’t really know why, but you have the same look in your eyes as me. You know how it feels to want to die.”

It was signed with a single name, Aradia, and you knew it was the woman who’d been murdered. You wished you could have spoken with her more eloquently. You supposed it was too late, but you still had the crazy feeling you’d see her again.

More murders took place in the city, and the police issued a statement that there was a serial killer on the prowl, and a curfew was advised to all citizens. Rose moved your sessions to the daytime to save you from walking at night, and after work, you took to staying on the main sidewalk. The voices in your head were louder than ever, and even stranger…you felt like Aradia was one of them. 

The season changed, and it turned cold outside, again. You were at your one year anniversary with Rose, and thought you weren’t cured, you felt better about things. You thought it was kind of funny, actually. There was a serial killer on the loose in your city, and you felt more optimistic than you had in a while. You wondered idly if you’d truly gone off your rocker this time. 

On a clear night, you went to the roof again, and messaged Dave about the stars. He called you a spectacular dork, but then he said it was strangely endearing. 

EB: hey, dave?

TG: what

EB: i’m really glad we’re friends. 

TG: shit john

EB: i mean it, okay? you’re probably gonna make fun of me and call me a derp, but i don’t care. 

EB: i wasn’t in a very good place before, and you really helped me through it. i’m really fucking crazy, dave. rose could tell you, i think. if she wanted to. but…

EB: i feel like even though i’m insane, you’d still be my friend anyway. and i want you to know it’s thanks to you that i feel better about things again.

TG: i

TG: im glad were friends too man

TG: best bros right

TG: and hey were all crazy 

TG: so dont think for a second that you need to be upset about that or some shit because thats really lame

EB: sorry for being so sappy, hehe.

TG: saps good sometimes 

TG: are you still on the roof because its like fucking freezing there

EB: yeah it’s cold, but it’s really pretty up here. can you see the stars well from where you are?

TG: nah were in a city

TG: but uh

EB: uh?

TG: its weird that we both see the same sky though dont you think

TG: like were both really far away from each other 

TG: but we see the same stars and moon and shit

TG: and i think about that total lame bs that i completely blame on your derpy ass for putting it in my head to begin with

TG: and then i think of how were not so far away after all

EB: that was beautiful, dave.

EB: do you want a pretty dress to go with those pretty thoughts? :B

TG: fuck you

EB: i feel the same way. even though we’re so far apart, it’s comforting to know we share the same sky and the same thoughts and stuff.

EB: maybe…

EB: maybe we were meant to find each other.

TG: john

EB: sorry i’m being weird.

TG: no i just

TG: god i wish i was with you man

TG: we can only talk so much over a shitty chat client before were cut short

EB: speaking of shitty chats cut short, i need sleep!

TG: way to kill the mood egbert

TG: but yeah goodnight bro

Before you could go back inside, you heard the sound of someone else coming out of your already open window. Jake came out to lie beside you, and in your surprise, you forgot to be tired. 

“We couldn’t see the stars like this in London,” he said quietly. “It’s rather beautiful.”

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” you said. “Stargaze, I mean.”

He didn’t say anything back, and you couldn’t help yourself from curling into his side like the old days. You still missed him terribly so. He was living with you, but he was never around, and you never got to talk to him like this, so you didn’t know what to say. Eventually, you blurted the first thing you could think of.

“I wonder if Jade can see us from where she is.”

Jake went stiff against you, and the hand that was petting your hair stilled. You kicked yourself for bringing her up when you felt him begin to tremble.

“I failed her,” he said. “I promised to protect her, and I couldn’t even do _that_ right.”

“Hey, no. I promised that too, and you can’t help something out of your control like a car crash.” You wiped the tears away from his eyes before they could fall. “Jade wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“Do you believe in God, John?”

“Not really. But I do think Jade is happy wherever she is. Don’t you?”

“I believe in God,” Jake mumbled, rolling away from you to head back for your bedroom window. “I just think he’s abandoned us.”

Communication with Dave dwindled for a bit, but he said it was because he and his brother were moving to another place, and it “sucked so many dicks”. You took it upon yourself to figure out where Jake had been going after his classes were out, but you weren’t having much luck. It wasn’t that you were nosy. You were just worried. He wasn’t acting like himself. Fuck, he hadn’t acted like himself in ages. You were starting to think he wasn’t the same Jake anymore, and you wondered if even he knew what was wrong with him. Rose said it was stress on his part, and you needed to be sympathetic to his plight. He was being forced to become something he didn’t even want to be, so of course he wasn’t as happy as he used to be. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t agree with that statement. Neither you nor Jake had _ever_ been happy. This was something else.

A little bit later, Dave messaged you again. He and his brother were moved in, and they were getting used to everything. You asked where he moved to, but he said it was a surprise. He’d figure out a way to tell you soon enough, he said. He wanted it to be perfect. You didn’t understand, but you never really understood most of what Dave said. He was one aloof cool kid. _So_ cool. 

Jake made a new friend, but you’d only seen brief glimpses of him. His name was Dirk, Jake told you, and he had just moved to town. You were happy he’d made a friend. Maybe Dirk could understand him in ways you couldn’t anymore. At least, you hoped so.

Rose told you she thought you had an odd attachment to your journal. You argued that she was the one who told you to carry it with you everywhere, but she said it was deeper than that on your part. You tended to get very panicked when it wasn’t near you, but it was only because you _knew_ those people! You _did!_ Rose’s lips pursed in that displeased way of hers, but she didn’t press the issue. You didn’t tell her how you could now distinguish between them. A few of them talked to you a _lot_. Your favorite was a deep voiced man with a southern drawl. His voice was very soothing, and every time he talked to you, he always promised he’d be there when you woke up. He never was, but you’d often wake up to find messages from Dave on your phone, so you were pleased either way. You wondered what Dave sounded like. You thought he’d have a pretty prominent accent, too.  


During your last session, Rose told you she’d like to introduce you to her brother, and you were rather excited about the idea. She’d been right to assume you’d be good friends with Dave, so you were open to the prospect of another person to talk to. Dave told you he had a surprise for you soon, and you were pleased to have something to look forward to. Everything in your life seemed to be at a standstill, and for the first time in a while, you felt a little hopeless. Jake was gone even more often now, and you’d overheard your father telling Jake how disappointed he was for making horrible grades after he’d pulled so many strings to get him in the school. You went to comfort him after you heard your father leave, but you found Jake pressed against the wall, being kissed deeply by his blond friend, Dirk, and you decided he didn’t need you anymore. You wondered, for the thousandth time, if anyone would even notice if you disappeared. Dave might. You wondered when exactly you started thinking of him so often.

The murders in the city were piling up, and they were all rather morbid. The reports on the news were always in depth, because they were meant to show people exactly how horrible these crimes were. Aradia Megido’s throat was slit. A man named Gamzee Makara was stabbed to death in a back alley. Tavros Nitram was killed in a similar manner, and was found inches from his wheelchair. Whoever had killed him had kicked him from his chair, and it was believed he was tortured for a bit before he succumbed to the multiple stab wounds in his chest. Terezi Pyrope was strangled to death. Vriska Serket was found in a ditch, her upper body hacked into pieces. According to a report you read, her internal organs were removed from her body beforehand, and were found perfectly intact next to her body. Sollux Captor’s skull had been bludgeoned in. Brain matter had been scattered all over the walls of the nearby building. Nepeta Leijon and Equius Zahhak were found together a few days later, both of them killed by blunt force trauma, same as Sollux Captor. And the most recent had been Karkat Vantas, who was also stabbed repeatedly. Some reporters didn’t credit all the killings to the same person, since they were so varied, but the police weren’t ruling out a connection, so there were still warnings out about a potential serial killer. 

You woke up one morning in tears, gasping for breath. You didn’t know why, but you had a strong sense of foreboding as soon as you opened your eyes. You felt like for some reason, time was running out and there was nothing you could do to stop it. With trembling hands, you reached for your phone to try and distract yourself. It was relatively early, but you had plenty of missed messages.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 07:18--

TT: John, I am afraid we are going to have to cancel our session today, as something more pressing came up. I hope you do not think it too forward of me, but I gave my insistent brother your address. 

TT: Don’t worry. You actually know him quite well. Do tell me how it goes.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 07:20--

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 09:03--

TG: im awake really fucking early

TG: also today is my surprise to you so i hope youre ready for that

TG: jesus john wake the fuck up im trying to woo you here

TG: yes woo as in what you think it means

TG: still not awake huh

TG: alright well im just gonna enact my master plan and youre gonna just have to go along with it

TG: see ya soon bro

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 09:51--

You stared at the messages in confusion for a moment before your door opened, and Jake peeked inside. When he saw you were awake, he walked over to your bed and fell beside you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I-Is everything okay?” you asked in a startled voice. 

“Remember how I said everyone in our family is doomed to go mad?” he asked. When you nodded, he sniffled loudly against your neck. “I think it’s too late for me, John.” 

“Jake…what’s _wrong?_ ” You wrapped your arms around him, wanting more than anything to be closer to him again, but even beside him you felt like he was miles away. 

He was silent for a moment, and then he kissed you, just briefly, before saying, “I best get a wiggle on or I’ll be late. Can’t disappoint the family, now can we?” 

You watched him go, and it only added to your sense of foreboding. Something bad was about to happen, you just knew it. 

You went to work and did your best to put it out of your mind. It was a rainy day, and you were rather busy during your shift, so when you were on your way home to relax for a bit. You also needed to message Dave and ask what the hell he was talking about earlier. You’d been too busy at work to ask him. 

You went to unlock the door when you got home, but curiously, it was already slightly ajar. You looked around yourself in slight paranoia. Jake _knew_ better than to leave the door open. If your father found out, he’d be in big trouble. Then, you heard a shout from inside, followed by a wheezing noise and the shifting sound of scuffling. There was more than one person inside. Frozen outside the door, you tried to remember whether or not Jake had mentioned company to you. Then, someone screamed. 

“JAKE! NO!” 

You bolted inside, thinking your cousin was in danger, but what you saw was far more terrifying. Jake was straddling a blond man around your age, and he was holding the hilt of a knife buried deep in the man’s chest. Dirk was behind him, trying to pull him off and looking understandably terrified. You dropped your phone before you could even think to call anyone, and then Jake reached into his jacket. There was a brief flash of silver, and then there was the sound of a single gunshot. Dirk fell into the floor at Jake’s feet, still feebly trying to reach for him. 

“J-Jake…” you heard yourself whimper. “I- what did you _do?_ ” 

He turned to you. There was a wild gleam in his eyes, and his face was almost unrecognizable. 

“I truly apologize about the mess, love,” he said. “I came in to see a man I didn’t know in our dwelling, and primal urges got the best of me, I’m afraid.” 

“You…you killed Dirk…” 

“Did I?” Jake looked at the body at his feet. “No. I think he was already dead beforehand.” 

You looked down at both the bodies, and you saw the younger of the two was still breathing, just barely. Your eyes locked on a pair of sunglasses, and you wondered if the man was staring back at you. 

“Jake, wha-“ 

“You see, we’re all already dead. You, I, these two. This life, John, it’s not _real_. Don’t you see? This is a fabrication. A farce if I ever saw one! What use is there in a life where the grand creator has abandoned you?” 

You dared to pick up your phone. You might be able to save the stranger. 

“I’m doing these poor citizens a favor. This life isn’t real, so whatever is next- that’s the grand adventure! A supreme rigmarole if I ever heard one! I’ve decided to get on with it.” 

“Jake, you’re not…well. You need to drop the gun…” 

“Not well? _Not well?_ I’m better than I’ve been in a long while, my boy. See, I’ve finally moved past the things bothering me. This plan of mine, it’s bloody well near _brilliant_. Would you like to know the next part?” 

You unlocked your phone and dialed 911. Before you could press the call button, there was a searing pain in your chest, and a ringing in your ears. You looked down to see a red puddle forming in your shirt. 

“Sorry about this in advance, John. This is the only way to free us from this prison. Don’t you _see_? We’re so close- Jesus, we’re so fucking close to being away from all of this! All these requirements of ours, all these expectations we can never live up to!” He moved closer to you and grabbed your shoulders, and he was the only thing holding you up as his wild eyes bored into yours. They weren’t green anymore. They were enveloped in black. “I couldn’t protect Jade, but I can protect _you_. This is the only way.” 

“J-Jake…” you croaked. Your free hand went to your chest to hold the wound. “Please…” Another shot was fired into your torso. 

“I’m so sorry, John,” he said. “I was hoping there was another way than this…” 

You fell to your knees, inches from the blond male you thought was still alive. Jake hovered over you, gun still pointed at you. 

“You’ll forgive me, won’t you? I do love you so. I loved Dirk as well, but he got in my way too soon. I’d have liked to die at his side, but no plan is perfect, I suppose.” 

You felt two more shots enter your body, and you fell completely to the ground. You could’ve sworn the blond’s hand twitched toward you. 

“Oh, John… This is for the best. Do you remember telling me you thought your father hated you all those years ago? You were right, you know, but did you ever know why?” 

Your hand reached toward the blond stranger. His reached back toward you. You weren’t imagining it. 

“Your mother was rather eccentric woman. I remember my own mum telling me that about her. She believed she was _psychic_ , if you could believe that. During her pregnancy, she went a bit off her rocker. Said she heard voices.” 

You gasped, trying to turn your head to look at him. 

“Your mother didn’t die, John. Did you know that? No, she was very much alive, she just ran off. Last I heard she even had another child. I doubt it worked out for her either, though. My guess was always that your father didn’t even want you, but you were the last piece of her he had. You don’t even know much about her, do you?” 

You couldn’t answer. 

“Don’t be sad love. I don’t know much else about her either. I do remember my mother talking about her eyes once. She had the nicest, honey colored eyes.” 

You instantly thought of Aradia, and wondered if the meeting was entirely accidental. 

The gun went off two more times, but you couldn’t feel the bullets anymore. You couldn’t feel much of anything. Distantly, you heard Jake reloading, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your mother might have been alive the entire time. Aradia might have been related to you. There were so many things you _didn’t know_. 

“John, I’m so, so sorry…” Jake was crying now. You wondered if he was himself again. “I’m so sorry… God, I just…” He fell to his knees. “Dirk,” he cried, falling onto the lifeless corpse of his deceased friend. “Oh, Dirk, I…” Another shot went off, and Jake fell beside you, lifeless, a single bullet hole in his temple. 

You lied there, bleeding out slowly with your mind full of questions. Oddly, dying felt a lot like living. It was uncertain, and slightly terrifying. Something brushed against your fingers, and you opened your eyes to see the blond’s hand finally over yours. 

“J-ohn…” 

You blinked at him, trying to remember how to talk. 

“Hey there…Egderp…” 

That voice. You _knew_ that voice. You managed to grasp his hand in return. He smiled feebly at you. 

“Too late,” he croaked. There was blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. “Was…too late…” 

“Who-?” you managed. He seemed to understand you, though. 

“Name’s Dave Str-rider… Brother of…bitchy Lalonde…” 

Suddenly, it clicked. He was the one you were supposed to meet. The one you’d already known for over a _year_. His voice was the same wonderful scratchy voice you’d heard in your head all those times, the same one promising to be there when you woke up. He was finally here with you, he’d come to surprise you. You whimpered, trying to reach out to him, but your body was growing heavier by the second, and Dave didn’t seem able to move either. 

“D…a…ve…” 

His hand brushed yours, and then his body went slack, his head lolling to the side. You managed to roll closer to him, but just before you reached him, your body gave out, and your eyes closed despite you trying to keep them open. You were so close to him, but not close enough… You had a feeling it would never be close enough. 

\-- 

Your name is John Egbert, and you remember everything about yourself, but you wish you didn’t. You aren’t entirely sure where you are at the moment, but it looks vaguely familiar. A throat clears behind you, and you turn to look into the smiling face of Doc. 

“Welcome back, John,” he says pleasantly. “It seems you’re at the end of your stay with us.” 

“Wh-wha…” you say dumbly. “But I…” 

“Don’t tell me you like it here. No one can stay here forever, my dear boy.” 

“I can’t- I can’t move on yet,” you say, slightly panicked. “There’s- Dave is still up there!” 

“Ah, yes. Dave Strider. I already know of your relationship with him, of course. Hopefully you don’t mind, but we’re actually very invested in the past lives of our guests. It’s terribly boring here.” Doc is skimming through the same book from before. 

“I’m not leaving without him,” you say. He looks up at you. 

“To be perfectly honest, John,” he says, “this isn’t exactly protocol. I don’t normally talk to the guests before they pass on like this. My job is simply to check in the guests, and then check them out down here.” He leans against the desk. “But I wanted to talk to you in person for a moment.” 

“A-About what?” you ask. 

“You’re one of the few humans who were able to hear the voices of the dead, for one thing,” he smiles. “That’s certainly a feat.” 

“I don’t- understand that, still. How could I…?” 

“Time doesn’t exist here for us the same way as it does in the world of the living, remember? Though the ones on your floor weren’t dead when you first started hearing them, it was their voices you were hearing. You were writing down the conversations you had with them here. I’m sure you already figured that out, though.” 

“I just… Why _me?_ ” you ask. “Why was I able to hear them?” 

“I can’t answer every question you have, but I will say that you had a gift, John. As I said, only a few humans are able to communicate with the dead. As for what you were hearing in particular- I imagine you were inadvertently trying to save yourself.” 

“Guess I was too late for that,” you sigh. “Jake said my mother had a gift. And Aradia did, too.” 

“Ah, yes. You’re from a long line of talented people,” Doc smiles. “I’m sure you don’t think of it as a gift, but I assure you, it is a very high honor to exist in two separate planes of existence at once. Most living people go mad from it.” 

“I think I was getting there,” you mumble, “but Jake beat me to it. I dreamed of this place.” You laugh shortly. “It’s crazy that I dreamed of death while I was alive, and dreamed of my life when I was dead.” 

“That’s the way it goes, sometimes. The living question the dead, and the dead long for the living. It’s a vicious cycle, but it’s never ending. It’s a tale older than time, and will go on past the end of time. The line between life and death truly is a thin one.” 

“So is the line between sanity and insanity,” you say, and he grins at you. 

“Yes,” he says. “That, too.” 

You hear the sound of a wrapper crinkling together, and look up to see Doc opening a candy bar. You watch him in amusement before he looks at you. “My apologies, I’m just _addicted_ to these things.” 

“Walter told me you had some issues. He has a thing for Tab soda, though.” 

“Yes, I know. We all have our favorite bad habits. The bad thing about death is that it lasts for eternity, and sometimes you have to break some rules to liven things up a bit.”  
“Was it you leaving chalk for Terezi and cigarettes for Dirk and Gamzee?” 

“No. I expect that was Walter. He loves catering to the guests and making them feel more alive.” 

“You don’t?” 

“That’s not my job.” 

You lean on the desk and watch him finish off the candy bar. He offers it to you, but you decline. 

“Can I go back upstairs now?” you ask him. “I know it’s time to move on or whatever, but I promised I’d wait for Dave.” 

“One bout of business,” Doc says. “We have rules here, as you’d expect, though I’m not very good at following them. You’re supposed to be passing on when I tell you this, but I might as well tell you now. You’re eligible for reincarnation.” 

“I’m what?” 

“If you choose it, you could be reborn again to a different family, and live an entire lifetime.” 

“W-Why me…?” 

“You were a very good person with an extremely hard life, for one,” Doc says matter of factly. “And also, I thought you might like to live a life without the voices of the dead impeding your judgment. I offered the same to Aradia, though whether she took the offer or not, I am not allowed to say. Confidentiality, you see.” 

You laugh at that, remembering the last person to tell you everything you told her was confidential. You shake your head. 

“I don’t want to live again,” you say quietly. “I just want to be with Dave.” 

“I assumed as much, but one can never be sure. Aradia didn’t accept it either.” 

“You’re bad at this confidential stuff,” you smirk. 

“It was nice to meet you, John Egbert,” he says with a wink. “You’re truly one of a kind.” He reaches into his suit and pulls out another Snickers bar. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a candy bar? They’re rather addicting.” 

“I’m good,” you say with an awkward laugh. “I do have another question though. What the fuck are you? Walter said you weren’t human, and never were… I guess I’m curious.” 

“Your species has lots of names for me,” Doc says with a frown. “Some of them are simply degrading. In the realm of the living, I take on a slightly different appearance, but I’m never there for long. I simply collect souls and bring them here to await judgment. The most common name for me in your language is Death.” 

“Death,” you say with a grin. “I think I like Doc better.” 

“It is rather unflattering. A worse name is _Slenderman_. I don’t even- you humans aren’t very creative.” 

He glares at you while you laugh at him. 

“One more question before I go,” you say. “Um. Is there a god?” 

“Probably not.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Of course I know,” he says. “But the answer isn’t that simple. Your idea of a god isn’t accurate, and neither is your idea of death. There is something waiting for you, but it’s not a man in the clouds, nor is it a pit of fire. It’s something else entirely.” 

You take comfort in this idea, and in your peripheral, you see Doc wave his hand through the air, and you begin to feel yourself slipping away. Before you lose consciousness, you hear Doc say something in an irritated voice. You aren’t exactly sure what it is, but it sounds suspiciously like “ _Slender_ man.” 

\-- 

You find yourself flat on your back when your eyes open again, and there are three people standing over you. 

“John! Shit! Oh, fuck I was freaking the fuck out. Are you alright? Dumb question, I guess. Shit, bro, what the actual fuck?” 

“Dave, shut the hell up,” Dirk says. “You alright, kid?” 

“Uh, yeah, I just…went to go see Doc for a second.” You accept Dave’s hand when he offers it to you, and then he pulls you to your feet. You look over his shoulder at Jake, who’s watching the entire exchange with tears in his eyes, Dirk’s hand enveloping his. 

“Jake,” you say quietly, moving slowly toward him when Dave releases you. “I remembered everything…” 

“I’m so sorry, John!” he says with a sob. Dirk gives you an irritated look like it’s your fault. “I didn’t- I don’t even… I was just bloody insane, that’s all there is to it! I don’t even remember any of the actual killing, I just-“ his lower lip is trembling. “I killed all of you, oh god, I’m a monster…” 

You walk up to him and press your lips to his gently in what you hope is a comforting gesture. You’d never been very good at making people feel better, but Jake always came naturally to you. His green eyes are wide behind his glasses when you pull away. 

“None of that matters now,” you say quietly. “That wasn’t you, Jake. I wasn’t exactly happy anyway, and we’re still all together.” 

“Like I said before,” Dave says from behind you. “The past is over, so there’s no use getting all worked up about it. Let’s just move the fuck on.” 

“I’m pretty tired of this goddamn place, too,” Dirk says, wrapping an easy arm around Jake’s shoulders. “Purgatory is boring as fuck.” 

The four of you make your way to the end of the hallway, where another elevator is visible this time. You breathe in deeply, and squeeze Dave’s hand in yours.  


“We were so close to that epic real life meeting,” you say quietly. “That whole time, we were connected and didn’t even know it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he says with a shrug. “Irony, bro. We were fucking drowning in it. Class A, I bet.” 

“Hey, Dave?” 

“What?” 

“I love you.” 

His fingers clench yours. “Love you too, man. Like, a shit ton. Always did.” 

The doors to the elevator slide apart and Jake slides his hand into your free one. He gives you a shaky smile, and you think back to what Rose said before, about how a lonely person could be forgiven for anything. You couldn’t help Jake before, and the whole time you were dealing with insanity, he had his own to fight, and he lost. You suppose Rose was right. You _would_ forgive Jake for anything. You promised a long time ago you’d always be with him, and though it didn’t quite work out like you planned, it’s a promise you intend to keep. 

Dave’s hand tightens around your other one, and you look up at him with your own smile. You are so helplessly fond of this man, and you knew you always were. He tried his best to understand you when no one else did, and he was the best friend you’d ever had. You stand on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, and he grins against your mouth like a dork.  


The light from the elevators spreads over the floor, and onto your body. You feel at peace, you think. Both your hands tighten around the ones holding yours.  


“Holy shit,” Dave breathes, and you agree with that particular sentiment. 

Together, you all take a step forward, and into the light. You don’t know what to expect, and for once, you have no idea what’s coming next. But for the first time in your life, and afterlife, you’re perfectly fine with not knowing. Your book is still in the old room you shared with Jake, and as far as you know, it’s probably filled with everything that happened here on the sixth floor. You think to yourself how you don’t need it. Not anymore. 

Whatever comes next, you can handle. You’d already been through hell, and you were done wishing to disappear. This was a free chapter in your afterlife story, an epilogue, maybe. The end to your personal purgatory story. And when the elevator doors close behind you, and the sixth floor is entirely empty, you think to yourself how perfect it is that you’re all smiling, just like Aradia was. 

After all, being happy was all you really ever wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! This is the end of the story, but I'll probably come back to add a few things, as I've been asked what Jake and Dirk spend their time doing, and someone wanted a Dave POV chapter, but this is the end of the MAIN story. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! *throws love at you*


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